


Dark Paradise

by ladykikyo1792



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 162,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17406809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykikyo1792/pseuds/ladykikyo1792
Summary: Peter Pan is dead, and Wendy Darling is now living in Storybrooke. Pretty and popular at her high school, no one guesses that now, months later, she still has nightmares of The Boy Who Never Grew Up. As she struggles to fit in and forget her past, a string of murders make her wonder if her past will ever let her go- or if he really died. AU where Peter isn't Rumple's father.





	1. My Nightmares are His Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on fanfiction.net as ladykikyo1792. For those wondering: yes, this is still ongoing! I finally have more time and I wanted to post on AO3 as well. When this story was originally written, Season 3A of OUAT had just ended, and so it's strictly AU. Feel free to send messages or ask questions. :)

It had been three months since Wendy Darling had been brought to Storybrooke. She lived with her brothers in an apartment down the street from Granny’s. While she initially had been happy to see them again, it had quickly become obvious that they were not the boys she had known. Too many years had gone by, years which she had spent with Pan, years which they had worked for him in stony silence and become men old enough to be her father. Sometimes, they acted like it. The result was an awkward relationship, especially as Wendy Darling, now in Storybrooke, had aged. Not much, of course- she now resembled what a normal sixteen year old girl would look like -rather than the eternal fourteen year old she had been in Neverland. But Wendy Darling, no matter how much she wanted to pretend, was not a normal sixteen year old. If only she were.

  
Oh, she pretended. At high school, she changed her name. She was listed on the rosters as Gwendolyn Angelina Carissima. Her friends called her “Gwen.” She knew who they had been in the Enchanted Forest, and they seemed happy to be called by their old names. But she wanted to forget she had been Wendy Darling, and so they never called her that.

  
Her grades were exemplary. Her teachers never had a bad word to say about her. In fact, when John and Michael came to parent-teacher conferences- for she had no one else -her teachers always mentioned how well she was doing, “in spite of the circumstances.”

  
In spite of the circumstances of her having lived hundreds of years on an island as the prisoner of a mad boy king.

  
In spite of her being hundreds of years behind everyone else in this world.

  
In spite of her not really fitting in.

  
It wasn’t that no one had been welcoming. They had. When she’d arrived, Regina had personally welcomed her and thanked her for her role in bringing Henry home. Emma had reassured her she’d be safe now. Henry had immediately introduced her to everyone, and a bunch of girls who looked to be her age took her under their wing. They morphed her into the perfect high schooler, and they thought she was well-adjusted.

  
They didn’t know that every night, she dreamed of Pan. She dreamed of countless nights in dark forests, soft whispers in her ears, chilling laughter, bloody kisses. She dreamed of strands of pearls pulled from mermaid’s lifeless bodies and fastened on her own neck. She dreamed of flying, waltzing among the stars. She dreamed of plummeting into the black waters of the ocean, a boy pulling her from the frozen waves and into his arms.

  
She tossed and turned in her bed, his name a fevered prayer upon her lips, “Peter... _Peter_...” before she’d sit straight up, her throat strangled in a silent scream. Even though she knew he was dead- for it had been she who betrayed him to Emma and the others -she had nightmares of him returning for her. Every night. She had not once slept soundly, but no one could ever tell- she had been used to not sleeping soundly in Neverland, and so was an excellent actress.

  
The only time she ever had slept soundly was when the boy who usually hunted her had decided to embrace his prey instead, holding her in her slumber.

  
That night, she shot up in bed, her usual cry of terror locked in her throat. Beads of sweat dripped down her face, and she blinked back tears. That night’s nightmare had been unusually vivid. She almost swore she had felt rough, calloused fingers brush her cheek.

  
Shuddering, she looked up at her window. It was open, the lacy curtains shifting in the breeze.

  
Odd. She thought she’d left it closed. A bit apprehensive, she approached the window, fingering the lace.

  
Just then, red and blue lights flashed, and a police car followed Emma’s trademark yellow bug down the street. Sirens blaring, an ambulance followed the police car. Lights were switched on in the houses and apartment complexes neighboring hers, and then a woman screamed.

  
At that bloodcurdling sound, she ran from her room. She threw open the apartment door, then charged down the stairs, ignoring her brothers’ tired protests. As she walked into the bitter cold, she noticed the slight body of a boy being loaded onto a stretcher and placed in the ambulance. He was very young- or at least like her, he appeared to be. Three months ago, he had been a Lost Boy in Neverland. He hadn’t had a name there- he had been known as First Twin, and it was he and his brother who had agreed to help Emma with Wendy so long as they could go home. Here, he’d called himself Robert.

  
Numbly, she watched the blood drip from his body. She wasn’t sure if he would stay alive, but the ambulance crew’s speed and efficiency showed her that at least they were trying to keep him alive. It sped past her, and stunned, she stumbled back onto the sidewalk. Then, carefully, she crept under the crime scene tape that already been placed around the area. No one noticed her as she clung to the shadows, not only because of the horrific scene before them, but because she was well-versed in hiding in shadows.

  
“What the hell?” Emma breathed, surveying the ground, “What do you think this is?” The sheriff crossed her arms, then raised an eyebrow at her father. David scanned the gruesome text on the ground, then quipped:

  
“Well, I’d say it’s some kind of dark magic, but Regina’s not here.”

  
“Actually,” the former evil queen stepped out of the sleek black town car that had just arrived, “I am here, and I can assure you, that is _not_ my handiwork.” Attired in an expertly-tailored purple skirt and jacket, she pushed aside the police tape.

  
“This is a crime scene,” Emma said, even now a little surprised at Regina’s audacity.

  
“And I’m the mayor,” she retorted, “who also happens to have extraordinarily strong magical powers and can restore anything back to the way it was if I disturb it.” Emma had no response to that, and Regina elegantly knelt in the dirt. She dipped her finger in the red liquid copiously sprayed about, and pronounced:

  
“Blood.”

  
“Well, yeah, we figured that out,” Emma said sarcastically, “Do you know what it’s for?”

  
“Are you asking me if this is blood magic?” the mayor inquired. She waved her hand, the blood that had been on her index finger neatly went back into its place on the ground.

  
“It’s not. The words have no meaning, and there are no spells or runes behind it. I think it’s just murder, or at least attempted murder,” Regina mused, “A bit messier than my style, but effective, nonetheless.” She shrugged.

  
“Regina,” David warned.

  
“What?” the mayor said, “You asked me what it was for. I told you. It’s murder. Now go figure it out.” With that, she began to walk back to her waiting car.  
“What are you going to do?” Emma demanded, somewhat disbelieving that Regina was going to leave so quickly.

  
“Impose a curfew until this person, or demon, is found.”

_Demon?_

  
Wendy thought she had said the word silently, but she must have said it aloud, for the three adults whipped around to look at the startled teenager.

  
“Gwen,” David said, “You shouldn’t be here.” His gaze was full of concern, and he clearly was thinking that this was the last thing a traumatized girl needed to see.

  
“No,” Regina crossed her arms, “She shouldn’t, should she?” She gave Wendy an accusing glance, but Emma rolled her eyes:

  
“Regina, stop. Look at Gwen’s pajamas. Do you see blood? No. She’s innocent. Come on, Gwen.” With that, the sheriff took her by the hand and lead her back to her apartment. Emma personally delivered her all the way upstairs, where Michael thanked Emma for her thoroughness and John tried to berate his sister. He kept up the string of reproach all the way to her room, where she finally fastened her eyes on him and said:

  
“John! I’m your _older_ sister, even if I don’t look it! Enough!” Then she slammed the door in his face. Sighing, she locked it.

  
_What is wrong with me?_ she thought, leaning against the wall. Though, she supposed, even aside from being the crazed girl from Neverland, having a murder outside your bedroom window was bound to mess you up a little.

  
_The window!_ She went immediately to close it, but to her surprise, found it already shut. Unnerved, she stumbled backwards. The last time bizarre things had happened at her window, it had meant...it had meant...

  
_Stop_ , she commanded herself, _Just stop it!_ _He’s dead. You know that. John and Michael probably came in and shut it._

  
Still, she trembled a bit as she went to lock it. Then her curiosity had got the better of her and she opened it once more, looking out onto the street. If she strained her head just so, she could just make out the words on the ground, written in Robert’s blood:

  
_The devil will come for his Angel._

  
Immediately, her heart started to pound. No. He was dead. _Dead._ The words, as Regina had said, were meaningless.

  
Shaking, she went back into her room, pulling the window shut and locking it tight. Then she rolled the shade down, and crawled into her bed, drawing the covers around her. Though it was hard, and the words written in blood echoed over and over in her brain, she eventually fell asleep.

  
She had no nightmares that night.


	2. I Wish I Could Forget

The next day, she sat at lunch next to the girl who had been Grace, the Mad Hatter’s daughter.In this world, Grace considered herself to be Gwen Carissima’s best friend.Accordingly, Grace was fawning over her: 

“Gwen, I heard what happened.Are you okay?” she leaned in towards Wendy, her eyes wide with concern.She almost hugged her, but Wendy shifted out of range of her arms. 

“Yes,” Wendy replied. She pushed her pasta around her plate, praying her friends would stop interrogating her.The last thing she needed was to keep thinking about the previous night. 

“But it sounded awful,” Gretel, another “friend,” continued.They blatantly wanted her to share more about the event.It wasn’t their fault, really.It was more that they’d been in Storybrooke for a very long time, living the same days over and over until the Savior had arrived.Admittedly, more things happened now- Henry’s abduction to Neverland being a prime example -but they were things the town’s teenagers never got to participate in.In short, they were bored, and this was the most interesting thing to happen in a while. But Wendy wouldn’t call it “interesting.” 

“It was awful,” she admitted, “It was terrible.”These were familiar adjectives to her, but ones she reserved for truly bad things- eventually, for things that only had to do with Pan. 

_The devil will come for his Angel._

But he was dead, so she could use those adjectives for other things now. 

“I heard he died at the hospital,” Grace said.Noticing Wendy had flinched, her tone immediately grew apologetic, “I’m sorry, Gwen.I know Dr. Whale did everything he could to save him-”

“Please, let’s just not talk about it anymore,” she whispered.Flipping a strand of brown hair over her shoulder, she pushed her facial muscles into an approximation of a smile.Playing the role as she had been taught, she made her voice gay and bright: 

“Let’s talk about something happier.What about the dance?”

“The _dance!_ ” Gretel squealed, immediately distracted, “I can’t wait!”She clapped her hands together like a small child. 

Storybrooke High School, perhaps realizing that they should start acting like a high school and not repeat the same days over and over now that the curse was broken, had begun to add various activities to their calendar.They’d established a football team- primarily composed of some teenage dwarves -but since the team didn’t travel, they only really played against each other, so it was more like two football teams for one school.They’d also decided to start adding dances, and the first one, as it was October, was goinhg to be a combination of Homecoming and a Halloween dance.It was the first dance the girls would ever go to, and they were inordinately excited, especially as this was something they would never attend in the Enchanted Forest.Both Grace and Gretel were commoners who would never have gone to a royal ball.A high school dance was not even close to being the same thing, but they treated it as if it were. 

“Are you going to ask anyone, Gret?” Grace asked, taking a dainty bite of her sandwich. 

Gretel blushed, casting her eyes across the cafeteria, “I really want to go with Jeff.” She pointed to the burly football captain, who at the moment, was engaged in the highly mature activity of a sending a scoop of mashed potatoes across the table at one of his teammates. 

“ _Ew!_ ” Grace said, aghast, “The _frog prince_!?”

“He’s not a frog anymore!” Gretel said defensively.Wendy, even in her morbid thoughts, couldn’t help but think that Gretel had a point.Jeff wasn’t her type- not that she had one, she reassured herself -but he was certainly much more attractive as a human than he had probably had been as a frog.

“Oh my God,” Grace, who clearly disagreed, put her head in her hands.Her blonde hair fell onto the table and hid her face. 

“Okay, Grace.Well who are _you_ going to ask!?” Gretel demanded, arms crossed.She was clearly upset at having her potential date judged. 

“I’m not asking anyone,” Grace said haughtily, “I want Chris to ask me.”She indicated their recently elected student body president.Less burly than Jeff, he had dark hair and eyes, and was currently talking with the lunch ladies- most likely about putting more diversity into their school lunches, which was something he had campaigned on. 

“Chris.You want Chris to go with you,” Gretel repeated, stunned.She sat back in her chair in total disbelief. 

“Um, yeah.He’s handsome!” Grace looked at her like she was insane for not understanding why she would want to go with him. Gretel returned the glare, and emphasized: 

“He’s _dead_ , Grace!Undead, actually, which is even worse!And worse than that, we’re _reading_ about him in English Lit!” 

“He’s not a vampire here!” Grace replied. 

“If he’s not a vampire,” Gretel hissed, “What do you think he’s talking to the lunch ladies about?‘Diversity in the lunch menu?’ Hello, Earth to Grace!”

“Whatever.He can bite me anytime,” Grace waved to Chris as he went back to his seat.He gave her a mesmerizing glance back.The girls were all pulled in for a second before quickly shaking their heads, quite literally getting out of his spell. 

“What about you, Gwen?Any special someone in mind?” Grace inquired.She smiled innocently at her.

Wendy couldn’t help but recall a thousand other dances she had done.Dances with a mad boy, certainly, but they had been dances among the stars.Dances among the stars would probably never be rivaled by a dance in the gym. 

She supposed it was better that way.It would keep her thoughts out of bad memories.

“No,” she smiled back at her friends, “I haven’t thought about anyone.I don’t want anyone, really.” 

“Keep telling yourself that,” someone chuckled darkly behind her.Grace and Gretel whipped around to face the interloper.He was a tall boy, with shaggy yellow-blonde hair and blue eyes.He sported a brown hoodie and jeans in place of his brown cloak, but Wendy still hated him. 

“Oh,” Grace said, “It’s you, Felix.Go away.”From her tone, it was clear she thought of him as little better than an insect. 

“Yeah,” Gretel agreed disdainfully, “No one asked for your opinion!” She squeezed Wendy’s hand beneath the table.Both girls were aware how Wendy felt about Felix. 

“Isn’t it funny, Wendy,” Felix taunted, “how some things _never_ leave us?” He addressed her directly, acting as if the other girls didn’t even exist.To him, Wendy knew they didn’t.His world had always consisted of all boys, Tinkerbell (who didn’t really count as a girl to him, since she was a fairy), and Wendy.There simply were not other girls in the equation. 

“My name,” Wendy said, “is Gwen.”She stood up from her chair, then pushed it in, allowing it to scrape into the floor.Without another word, she turned her back on Felix and walked out of the cafeteria.Felix, being Felix, followed her. 

“Keep telling yourself that, too,” he said.He drawled out the words.Wendy hated that.It had always been an incredibly annoying habit of his.

“I will,” Wendy retorted, “and I’m telling _you_ as well:my name is Gwen.I go to Storybrooke High School.I am sixteen years old, and I have never been to Neverland.And I don’t know you, or want to hear what you have to say. _And_ ,” she said, relishing the words, “I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” 

With that, Wendy walked into the one place he couldn’t follow her:the girls’ bathroom. 

Then she screamed. 

Written across the mirror- again in blood -was another message: 

_The Angel thinks she won’t fall, but she always falls in the end._

Felix threw open the bathroom door and barged in, holding a switchblade- his modern replacement for his club -in his hand.Although he had never really liked Wendy, nor understand Peter’s fascination with her, he was still Peter’s second.He knew that his leader would not be pleased if harm came to Wendy, and so that was why he came to her defense.It didn’t matter if Pan was dead to Felix- and Felix, to be honest, hadn’t accepted that he was.Peter Pan had never failed, and Felix still had faith in his leader.Therefore, he still acted as if Peter was present- and Peter would have slit his best friend’s throat with a clean conscience if anything had happened to Wendy.He scanned the message and whistled, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“Well, well, well,” Felix said, “What do you think of that, Wendy?”He flicked the switchblade closed, putting in back in his pocket, then reached out a hand to steady Wendy, who was swaying on her feet. 

“I think-” Wendy stammered, forcing down vomit, “I think- I think someone else is dead. Whose blood is that, Felix!?” she demanded, “You would know.You _have_ to know!”Her eyes were wild.If Peter had ever done anything remotely disturbing, Felix always knew. 

Felix shrugged, “I don’t know, Wendy.I was in the cafeteria with _you_ , remember?”This blood,” he rubbed some between his fingers, “is fresh.Still warm, actually,” his eyes narrowed, “The body’s nearby.” 

As a trembling Wendy stumbled backwards, using the sink to stay upright, Felix hunched forward.Wendy recognized the position- all the Lost Boys had had their particular hunting habits, and this was Felix’s distinct hunting posture.He looked catlike and otherworldly.All that was missing was his hood over his head so that his eyes were hidden, and to her dismay, he actually pulled the hood from his sweatshirt over his head. 

Clearly, he was right.Some things did never leave you.Old habits died hard. 

Felix pushed open the first stall.Then the second. 

Both were empty. 

The third.Then the fourth. 

Again, empty. 

Finally, there was only the last stall left.Felix’s gaze drifted to the floor, where he noticed a few spatters of blood. 

“Close your eyes,” he warned, but Wendy stood frozen as he pushed open the door.Tied to a pipe in the stall with thick, coarse rope, was the body of Second Twin- who in this world, had called himself James.His throat had been slit, and blood was still steaming from the gaping wound. 

Wendy screamed again, and at that moment, Mary Margaret stepped into the bathroom: 

“What is going on-” Her eyes went from Wendy to the mirror to Felix and at last, to the body. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered.Then she dragged Gwen out of the bathroom, locking it behind her.She pulled out her cell phone and frantically dialed, then in a panicked voice, said: 

“Emma, you need to get here _right now_.” 

Wendy started to sob. 

 


	3. A Shared History

“You know,” Emma said, “I was hoping it would take you a little longer to get in trouble, and I definitely didn’t think it would be for murder.”The sheriff had figured that some of the Lost Boys would have a rough time adjusting to Storybrooke.They had lived so long without any rules but Pan’s that suddenly having to follow them had been a big change.Emma had suspected for a while they’d end up committing a crime, especially Felix- though she thought it would be something like robbery, especially as the Lost Boys, and Peter’s second in particular, had been used to taking what they wanted.Shaking her head, she snapped the handcuffs on Felix’s wrists. 

The boy laughed, “You think I did this?” He seemed to find the very notion ridiculous, much to Emma’s annoyance. 

“Well, yeah,” she replied, glaring at him, “I mean, Mary Margaret walked in on you next to the body, plus you apparently knew exactly where it was-”

“He didn’t do it,” Wendy said softly.She was sitting on the floor leaning against the wall.Someone had wrapped a blanket around her, which she half-heartedly placed around her shoulders.Supposedly, it was for shock, but Wendy wasn’t truly shocked by the body.Horrified, yes.Heartbroken, yes.But not shocked.She’d seen death before, and slit throats before.Though it hadn’t been here. 

Mary Margaret bent down, “It’s okay, Wendy.You’re safe now.”She put her arm around Wendy, attempting to be comforting, but the young girl insisted, her voice clear and strong:

“It wasn’t Felix.”She looked Emma directly in the eyes, but the sheriff was quickly distracted: 

“Swan! I came as soon as I heard!”A man clad in a black leather jacket, wearing a hook for a hand, ran up to join their little group outside the bathroom.Both Felix and Wendy knew him well.Upon spotting the boy in handcuffs, he greeted Felix neutrally: 

“Felix.” 

“Hook,” Felix spat at his feet.His eyes blazed with hatred.Had he not been cuffed, he probably would have hit the pirate standing before him.Hook had taken away one of his closest friends in Neverland; killed Rufio with the very hook he wore today.Felix, even now, wanted revenge, and both of them knew it.

“No need for that, lad,” Hook said, “I’m well-aware you don’t like me, and I don’t like you, but we can at least play nice in polite company.”Casting a glance down at Wendy, his voice was full of pity as he murmured: 

“Love, I’m sorry you had to see this again.” 

Wendy nodded to him, but said nothing.She and Hook had always had a rather unique relationship.Hook had always treated her courteously, and had ordered his crew never to attack her.He had held her for ransom, once, but he had never hurt her.In return, if Wendy happened to see him wandering the island alone, she’d never mentioned a word to Peter.Hook and Wendy hadn’t been enemies, but they hadn’t been allies either- they couldn’t be.The role Peter gave her didn’t allow for that.

Oblivious to their complicated history, Mary Margaret repeated,“‘Again?’” She was utterly aghast.Despite the fact that Wendy was far older than she looked, it was clear Mary Margaret still thought of her as a young girl.It bothered her immensely that Wendy had been exposed to something so terrible before.

“Yes, again,” Hook answered emphatically.He said nothing else on the subject, well-aware it wasn’t his place to share.

Seizing the awkward silence as an opportunity, Wendy stated again, “Felix didn’t do it.” 

“Wendy-” Emma started.She gave her the look Wendy resented- the look that people gave her when they were remembering she was the crazy girl from Neverland and not the popular Gwen she played day to day. 

“I’m telling you, Felix didn’t do it!” she said, her pitch rising a bit.Why didn’t any of them _believe_ her?And why was Felix so happy about the situation?He was being _arrested._

“All right then,” the sheriff challenged her, “If Felix didn’t do it, who did?”She looked Wendy straight in the eyes, daring her to say differently. 

Wendy couldn’t bring herself to say the answer, because it was impossible and terrifying and she didn’t even want to think of it.She wouldn’t _let_ herself think of it.Peter Pan was dead.Dead boys, even boys who never grew up, did not go around killing those who’d betrayed them. 

Still, she did find the strength to say, “Felix beats things to death.He doesn’t cut throats.He clubs them down.”Over the years, she’d learned that about him.He liked watching skulls get bashed in and listening to bones break.Many years ago, Wendy had wondered if it was something to do with what happened to him before he came to Neverland, but she never asked.Many of the Lost Boys had bleak histories full of abuse and abandonment, and none ever talked about them. 

Mary Margaret and Emma shared a long look. Then Emma reached into Felix’s pocket, withdrawing the switchblade:

“He’s got a knife.Last I checked, you can cut people’s throats with knives.” 

“Yes, among other things.How observant of you,” Regina’s tone was like acid as she swept into the room.Today, she was attired in a black and white pant suit, with a diamond necklace and matching earrings.Apparently, she’d decided another murder- especially that of a child -demanded her attention.It certainly had to be more important than whatever else she did all day.Wendy had always been curious about how Regina even ran a town that was quite literally off the map.

“Oh,” Regina said, “It’s you again.” She glared at Wendy, crossing her arms.She evidently thought Wendy had something to do with the murders, and made no secret of it.Realizing the source of the tension, Emma cut in: 

“Regina, we’ve been over this.Gwen’s innocent.She saw the body.That’s it.” 

“And none of you think it’s strange that she’s been found at the scene of two murders in two days?” Regina riposted. 

“It’s bad luck,” Mary Margaret stood up, immediately coming to Wendy’s defense, “Besides, we caught him.”She gestured to Felix, who started laughing again.Under his breath, he muttered: 

“You wish.” 

Wendy’s heart started to pound as she wondered if she was the only one who heard him. 

Hook noted, “Actually, as much as I dislike the boy, I don’t think he’s responsible for it either.I’ve seen him kill, and Wendy’s right- it’s not like this.Besides, Swan- there’s no blood on the knife, or on his clothes.”Although Regina, Emma, and Hook all examined Felix from head to toe, they couldn’t deny that his clothes weren’t stained.His brown hoodie had crumbs on it, but that wasn’t exactly unusual for a boy who’d come from lunch, and his jeans were ripped, but perfectly clean. 

Stubbornly, Emma retorted, “Well, until we find anything else, he’s under arrest.We found him with a weapon at the scene of the crime, with the body still warm.I’m taking him in to the station.”She pushed a still laughing Felix up the stairs, out the door, and into her car. 

Hook paused, then said to Wendy, “I hope we’re both wrong, love.If not...” he trailed off and shook his head.Then he followed Emma and Felix outside. 

As Wendy watched them go, she found herself praying they were wrong, too. 


	4. Chapter 4

That afternoon, Wendy was sitting in her room. She had math homework to do, but she couldn’t concentrate. Even though she’d told Mary Margaret she was okay to stay in school for the rest of the day, she hadn’t been able to think of anything but Peter.

  
Most of the Lost Boys used bows and arrows. Felix used a club. Some had spears. But only one person on Neverland had a dagger. Only one person put Lost Boys to death by slitting their throats. She sighed. Maybe the others had been right. At the time, she’d been so sure Felix hadn’t killed First and Second Twin. But thinking back...it could easily have been him. Felix knew her almost as well as Peter. He would have known aggravating her would make her want to get away. He also would have known the only place she could seek out to get away from him was the girls’ bathroom. And he would have known just the right things to rattle her.

  
Then there was the switchblade.

  
Part of her still refused to think of anyone but Peter using a dagger. That same part of her insisted that Felix, if given the choice, would never use one, especially to kill- he’d think of it as disrespectful to Pan. Another part of her, though, knew that he had been Pan’s second, his right-hand man, deputy in all things. So with Pan gone, wouldn’t Felix have become the leader of the Lost Boys? And wouldn’t that new leader’s first act have been to punish those who’d betrayed the old?

  
That made sense to her too. In fact, Felix could have imitated Pan’s style of killing as a weird sort of homage to him.

  
But maybe there was something she was missing. Perhaps there had been another Lost Boy with a dagger.

  
_Only one way to find out,_ she thought grimly. She swallowed and slid open her desk drawer. As she pressed the hidden catch, the false bottom came up, revealing a tattered book. Gently, she picked it up, trying to make herself open it.

  
When she’d first come back from Neverland, her brothers had insisted she go for therapy to Dr. Hopper. They apparently were worried she’d have Stockholm Syndrome or something- not that she had ever agreed with Pan’s methods. Still, they were her legal guardians, and so she couldn’t refuse. Over the course of many sessions, Dr. Hopper had suggested that the only way she could learn to let go of her memories was by writing them down. Once they were written down, she could forget them.

  
“Think of it as writing an old book,” he’d told her, “one that you finally get to close.” Smiling, he’d given her the worn book to emphasize that. He’d also given her a shiny new one- this one pink and with a golden lock -but she hadn’t opened it yet. She hadn’t felt she’d become Gwen just yet, and Gwen was who that diary was for. She told herself she wasn’t quite Wendy, either. But it was Wendy’s words and Wendy’s memories she needed now, if nothing else than to reassure herself that Peter’s days as a killer- Peter’s days at all -were well and truly over.

  
_I’ve long since lost track of the days here. Days blend into nights and nights blend into days. I don’t even know how old I am- Peter doesn’t let us celebrate birthdays..._

Wendy flipped the page. She knew that time wasn't "normal" in Neverland. That wasn’t surprising.

_Today Peter let me hunt with the Lost Boys. He used to be absolutely against it, but ever since the incident with Hook...well, he’s agreed that I may need to learn to defend myself. He hates it though. Secretly, I think it’s because he doesn’t want me to be in a situation where he can’t save me. But he’ll never admit it._   
_Or, maybe that’s just me hoping such things. More likely it’s because he doesn’t want to miss a situation where he can fight Hook._

  
_This is the first time I’ve ever had a weapon in my hand. I’ve got a bow and arrow, though mine are smaller than the boys’ bows. I’ve never seen them hunt before- they always brought back food for their “mother” to cook (luckily, I’ve never seen what the meat used to be). They’re a bit savage in their excitement..._

Wendy sighed. This wasn’t exactly something she wanted to recall either, but she knew she had definitely listed their weapons a few pages after this one, because she had been fascinated after that hunt. Accordingly, she flipped the page.

_...I just can’t believe how confident they are. Most of the boys- Slightly, Tootles, the Twins, and quite a few others -carry bow and arrow, and they’re lethal with it. Nibs has a slingshot. The stones he uses are dipped in dreamshade. Curly likes a spear, and Felix uses a club. Rufio and Peter use daggers..._

At that, Wendy sucked in a breath. Before Felix was Peter’s second, there was Rufio. Wild, vivacious, rebellious Rufio. He was almost as good as Peter, and the boys loved him almost as much as Peter (Wendy, in fact, had been fond of him too). Rufio was a little less harsh than Pan. Instead of killing those who disobeyed, or letting them “rest” in the Mermaids’ Lagoon for a while, Rufio would tie them to trees and make them wait while the other boys came up with a prank to scare them. If they had done something truly reprehensible, Rufio often suggested simply sending the boy away from Neverland, and he would not be allowed to return. Consequently, while the boys feared Pan, they admired Rufio, and Peter was well-aware of that.

  
Wendy was pretty sure that was why Rufio ended up dead. Peter told everyone Hook did it, and it was true that Rufio had fallen in battle. However, though Peter had no qualms about his boys ending up injured at the hands of the pirates, none had ever been killed- until Rufio. To the boys, it only made them hate Hook more, because he had done the impossible: taken a Lost Boy’s life.

  
To Wendy, it seemed awfully strange. However, she didn’t dare voice her suspicions.

  
Shaking her head, she quickly closed the book. Aside from the fact she didn’t want to think of any of them anymore- let alone Rufio, who had always been kind to her -she didn’t want to consider the awful truth in the diary: there were only two Lost Boys who used daggers. Both of them were dead.

  
Or at least, they were supposed to be.

  
Just then, Wendy’s cell phone beeped. She flopped onto her bed and opened it. Inside was a text message from Grace:

Grace:Hey...that was crazy today.I know you’re probably sitting alone thinking about it, and I know you think that’s how you should deal with it, but **_I_** think you could use a distraction.Gret and I are going costume shopping for the dance- want to come? 

Wendy considered. Grace was right- sitting alone was how she wanted to deal with it. Seeing two massacred bodies of two people she had known for a long time in the span of two days...it was a lot. She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to just go costume shopping and pretend like nothing was wrong.

  
Then she heard the telltale car horn outside. Apparently, Grace had made the decision for her. Groaning, she grabbed her jacket and ran down the stairs. Gretel waved from the passenger seat of the car, while Grace honked on the horn.

  
“Come on, Gwen! The store closes in an hour! We have to hurry!” Gretel grinned at her.

  
“Only you would decide to go costume shopping with one hour to spare,” Wendy said. She slammed the car door shut, then snuggled into the warmth of the backseat.  
Grace winked, “Yeah, but you still came.” Then she floored it, and the girls were speeding down the streets of Storybrooke, keeping their fingers crossed the new sheriff wouldn’t give Grace yet another ticket.

  
  


* * *

  
Inside the costume shop, Wendy was waiting for Grace and Gretel to try on their fourth costumes (each). Neither of them could decide who they wanted to be, and while it wouldn’t have been a problem for normal teenagers, none of them were normal. Grace and Gretel both were worried about offending someone in the town. Originally, the pair had wanted to go as the Evil Queen and Snow White, respectively.

  
Then Wendy had pointed out that might not be the best idea. Reluctantly, Grace and Gretel agreed, and returned the pretty dresses to the racks.

  
Since then, the girls had been through a myriad of costumes- they thought Cinderella wouldn’t mind if they attended the dance as her, and they knew Belle wouldn’t. However, they were pretty sure Rumplestiltskin would mind if someone went as his wife, and no one wanted to be on his bad side.

  
Finally, Wendy picked out two costumes herself, and tossed them to her friends. She was fairly certain she had solved their dilemma.

  
“Here!” she said to Grace, “You can be Alice. Didn’t your father know her?” At least, Wendy thought Jefferson- better known as the Mad Hatter -would know Alice.

  
Grace considered, “Yeah. He said she was a great lady. I never met her though.” She looked a little wistful.

  
“ _And_ she’s not in Storybrooke. Perfect. Try it on!” Wendy commanded with a grin.

  
Obligingly, Grace took the short blue dress and disappeared into the dressing room.

  
“What about me?” Gretel inquired, sounding a little jealous.

  
“Hmm...” Wendy said, “I think you should go as the Red Queen.” She gingerly handed over an equally short red frock to a shocked Gretel.

  
Gretel looked up and down at the dress and back to Wendy, “You think I should go as the Queen of Hearts? _Cora?_ Regina’s psychotic mother!?” horrified, she added, “How is that any better than going as Regina?” It wasn’t better- actually, it was worse. Regina would definitely be offended by _that_ particular costume, and Gretel had no desire to upset the former Evil Queen either.

  
“No,” Wendy pursed her lips, “If you _read_ ‘Alice in Wonderland’ and ‘Through the Looking-Glass’ in English last week- like you were supposed to -you would know that the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts are two separate characters. As far as I know, the Red Queen’s not in Storybrooke either. Come on, Gretel! The red would look so pretty on you! And you can both keep with the villain/heroine theme you wanted.”

  
Gretel looked doubtful, but obediently went into the dressing room as well. A few minutes later, the two girls emerged. First, they turned to each other, and started squealing. Then they looked at Wendy, absolutely ecstatic.

  
“Oh my God, Gwen! These are _perfect_!” Grace gushed. She fingered the white apron on the front of her gown, playing with the lace pattern.

  
“We look amazing!” Gretel enthused, spinning around in the dress. Her red petticoat flew into the air around her.

  
“You both look beautiful,” Wendy agreed, “Truly.” The blue showed off Grace’s fair blonde hair, and the red set off Gretel’s pale skin tone.

  
Abruptly noticing that Wendy herself had no costume, Gretel interjected, “Wait, where’s yours?”

  
“Oh,” Wendy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “I haven’t really found one I like, and the shop’s almost closing, so-” She gestured weakly to the clock behind her. Honestly, she’d gotten so taken up in finding the other girls costumes and giving them critique that she really hadn’t even thought to look for herself. She didn’t mind too much, though, as she was - much to her surprise -having a lot of fun.

  
Grace frowned, “Okay, well, we’re going to pay, but we need to come back. We need to make sure you get a great costume, too.”

  
“Of course,” Wendy smiled and squeezed Grace’s hand, “Also...thank you for taking me out tonight. You were right. I really did need the distraction.” That was a bit of an understatement, but it didn’t change the fact that Wendy truly was grateful for Grace’s idea.

  
“What are friends for?” Grace smiled back at her. Then, she ran to the cashier, who had just announced that if Grace didn’t pay right now, she wouldn’t be getting her costume at all tonight.

  
Despite herself, and despite everything that had happened, Wendy couldn’t help but laugh.

  
Was this what normal life was like?

* * *

 

When Wendy returned home, she was smiling. Even though she originally hadn’t wanted to go out with the girls, she had to admit she had fun. For the first time, she’d actually felt like Gwen- Gwen, the sixteen year old who was happy in Storybrooke. That Gwen would definitely go Halloween costume shopping with her friends. That Gwen would end up picking out the perfect costumes for them. _That_ Gwen would be seriously considering texting Prince Ferdinand, who in this world, had gone by Fred for a while. He was handsome, chivalrous, intelligent, and according to Grace (who knew all the school gossip), he had a raging crush on her.

  
Maybe she did want a date for the dance after all.

  
Still happy, she reached for the brand new diary that Dr. Hopper had given her- the same diary that even earlier that day, she hadn’t felt ready to open. She flipped to the first page, pen poised, and ready to write her very first entry as Gwen. Then the pen clattered to the floor, and she clapped both her hands over her mouth.

  
The page wasn’t blank.

  
Written in scratchy, angular writing, were two words:

_Hello, Angel._        


	5. Angels and Demons

It had been four days since Wendy Darling received a message in her pretty new diary.In those four days, she had spent most of her time playing pretend- pretending it never happened, and praying it would go away.

After all, Peter Pan had never called her “Angel.”To him, she had always been “Wendy-bird-” his way of mocking her original, graceless entrance into Neverland.If he were to write her a message, even from beyond the grave, wouldn’t it be addressed that way? To “Wendy-bird?” Or even “Bird?”Certainly not to “Angel.” 

Besides, she’d never opened that diary before.That message could have been written ages ago.Maybe Dr. Hopper hadn’t even known it was there.And she didn’t know where he’d gotten the diary- it could have come from Mr. Gold’s shop, for all she knew, and Dr. Hopper had simply thought it was pretty and appropriate for his choice of therapy.It was certainly possible someone had opened it before and written that message. 

Or so she told herself. 

The messages written in blood, though, had frightened her.She was grateful that the one in the diary was ink.Still, it didn’t change the fact that the messages in the murders and the message in her diary were both addressed to “Angel.”And if she was Angel, what did that mean?Who was writing to her?What did they want? 

Though, she reasoned, it might have been Felix.Felix would have thought it appropriate to punish traitors of Pan, and so it was plausible he murdered the twins.It was also plausible this was Felix’s way of trying to punish her, for she had been the greatest betrayer of Pan.Killing her, therefore, would not be a good punishment.She deserved far worse.Since Felix knew Peter terrified her more than anyone, what better way to torment her than make her think he had returned?She would live in fear of that for the rest of her days, and suffer eternal guilt from the boys’ deaths (though interestingly enough, no one else had died since Felix had been put in jail). 

Still, it seemed too clever for Felix.

But not for Pan. 

Emma hadn’t believed Wendy that Felix was innocent- well, at least innocent for those particular murders.Regina clearly thought she was somehow responsible.She couldn’t go to either of them for help, which left her with three options: 

 

  1. Hook, which was an idea she discarded immediately.While he clearly was thinking along the same lines as her, he was in love with Emma and very loyal to her.Wendy didn’t trust him. 
  2. The remaining Lost Boys.They’d believe her, certainly.They’d probably started thinking the same thing themselves.However, some of them had to be in on the plot.They had to know the truth, and it wasn’t like they would tell her.Furthermore, if Peter truly was back, they wouldn’t dare help her for fear of angering him (though, she reasoned, they wouldn’t hurt her either). 
  3. Tinkerbell. 



 

So it was that she found herself on the fairy’s doorstep after school, hand poised above the knocker.She wasn’t exactly sure what reception she would get.Tinkerbell and Wendy weren’t friends.They hadn’t been friends- ever.Nevertheless, she was the only person Wendy had in Storybrooke- or at least the only one who she could trust.Gathering her courage, she grasped the knocker, then banged it on the door twice.The echo seemed unbearably loud. 

Within moments, the fairy, who sported a green sweater dress, appeared at the door.When she saw it was Wendy, her face fell.Wordlessly, she waved her inside.She guided Wendy to the couch in her living room, then grabbed what she initially thought was a pot of tea.To her surprise, the fairy filled two teacups with whiskey.The girl raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask about its origin, Tinkerbell said: 

“I was wondering when I would see you.”Even though the teacup only contained whiskey, she stirred it anyway, avoiding Wendy’s eyes. 

“What gave it away?” Wendy replied morbidly.She settled back into the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest.She needed comfort from something.

“Well,” Tink said darkly, “two Neverlanders killed in a gruesome manner practiced only by Pan, and another arrested for the killings, but entirely unconcerned about the situation.I expected you to visit.”A question hung unspoken at the end of that sentence: _Why else would you be here?_

Wendy sighed, deciding it was better to get the topic out in the open, “There’s more than just murder going on here, Tink.There’ve been messages-”

“I know,” Tink pushed a worn copy of the _Storybrooke Mirror_ towards her.It was obvious she had read the headlines detailing both killings multiple times.The newspaper was badly wrinkled, and the ink had even streaked a bit.The black letters looked as if they were bleeding.

“No,” Wendy gulped, “More than that.”This time, Tink raised an eyebrow.Wendy silently pulled the pink diary from her backpack and handed it to the fairy.Cautiously, Tink opened it, as if expecting something to jump out at her. 

“‘Hello, Angel,’” she read aloud.Then she stared at Wendy, her tone simultaneously full of pity and fear:

“The messages were for you.” It sounded like a death sentence. 

“I think so,” Wendy admitted. 

“From him,” Tink verified, refusing to speak the name.

“I think so,” the girl repeated and looked away, unable to meet her hostess’ gaze. 

“But he’s dead,” the fairy protested.Wendy couldn’t tell if Tink was trying to argue with Wendy’s assertion Peter was alive, or convince herself that he was dead. 

Wendy swallowed, “I _thought_ so.Everyone believed he was dead, Tink, but why did we believe it?Because we saw him die?You and I have seen Peter do many impossible things.That’s not proof of anything- not with him.”Frustrated, she replaced the pillow back in its original position on the couch. 

Tink sighed, “The Charmings believed it because it was an easy thing to believe.With Pan gone, Henry was safe.They could all return home.For us,” she trailed off, deep in thought, “perhaps we believed it because it would give us our freedom.Finally.”She picked up her teacup and took a long sip. 

Wendy paused, her curiosity getting the better of her, “Tink, what happened?With you and Pan?When I first came to Neverland, you were in his circle.Not part of the Lost Boys, of course,” she amended, “but a part of the camp.He trusted you.Then, when I came back- well, you weren’t.” She supposed that was the politest way to phrase it. 

Tink smiled sadly, “I got too close.”She took another sip from her teacup, and looked out the window.It was clear that it wasn’t her garden she was observing, but rather remembering another time in another world. 

“What do you mean?” Wendy asked, utterly confused. 

“How old do you think the Lost Boys are, Wendy?When they first came to Neverland, before they were frozen at their ages?” Tink inquired. 

“Well...the littlest would be six, I think.The oldest seventeen.” 

“Remember then, that they were frozen.Physically, they stayed that age.Mentally, though...they grew.Even Peter himself grew, though he wouldn’t say it, and wouldn’t allow any of them to, either.Now, how old do you think I am?” at Wendy’s puzzled look, Tink added, “If I were physically a human.” 

“Nineteen?” Wendy hazarded, “Twenty, at most.But you’re a fairy, Tink!You’re so much older than that!”She truly didn’t understand where Tink was going with this. 

“So are the Lost Boys,” Tink shrugged, “but Pan wants the Lost Boys to be entirely devoted to him.He began to suspect one of them wasn’t.”The fairy stared at Wendy for a long time, waiting for her to grasp her meaning. 

At last, Wendy said, “He thought one of them _liked_ you?” her jaw dropped, “You can’t be serious.”She couldn’t picture any of the Lost Boys she knew having romantic feelings for anyone, never mind a fairy. 

Tink, a bit offended, replied, “One of them _did_ like me, Wendy, and I liked him back.Very much,” her tone grew sad, “In fact, I loved him.Pan knew that, and he also knew that over time, that boy would grow to love me.Since Pan wants the boys to put him above all else, he couldn’t keep me around.So one day he kicked me out of camp, and gave me this agreement:if I stayed away from them, he would let me live.No one on Neverland would harm me, and I wouldn’t starve to death.I would always be able to provide for myself.That’s why I was exiled, and not killed.I had always played by his rules, so by his own laws, he couldn’t kill me,” she shook her head, “Though the Twins _did_ break the rules, and now they’re dead.” 

“Do you think he’ll kill all of them?” Wendy whispered, “All the boys?”She couldn’t imagine all that blood on one person’s hands, even Peter’s.Especially when they were boys he had considered his family for so long. 

“No,” Tink shook her head, “Only those that willingly betrayed him.There were plenty who stayed loyal, and were forced to come here by the Charmings.They will live, and be rewarded, I bet.”She shrugged. 

“What about me?” Wendy said, finally addressing the real reason she’d visited.She had known Tink would believe her, so she hadn’t needed to check that.And she was well-aware that if Peter was back, and decided to kill the boys, there was no way to stop him.But what would he do to her, the greatest of traitors? 

“I don’t know,” the fairy replied, “You’re a special case.If you think about the messages, though....” she picked up the newspaper, then scanned the article, “It says ‘The devil will come for his Angel.’It’s pretty clear to me that he hasn’t forgotten what you did.The second part’s more complicated,” she bit her lip, “‘The Angel thinks she won’t fall, but she always falls in the end.’” 

The two sat in thought for several minutes.If the messages were from Peter, then the messages wouldn’t be simple and straightforward.They would be a riddle, because he thought of everything- even murder -as a game. 

“It’s a code of some kind,” Tink said, “I just don’t know.This isn’t something he would use, though.It’s not like he’s religious!”She snorted at the very idea.Peter Pan?The Boy Who Never Grew Up?Ludicrous.He’d defied nature.The last thing he would do would worship something that supposedly created nature.Since Peter had defeated nature, he would consider _himself_ supreme, not a god.Aside from that, Peter never thought there was anyone better than him. 

Still, Tink’s exclamation gave Wendy an idea.They had just finished reading “Dante’s Inferno” several weeks before. In general, her class had hated it, and she hated it even more now that she realized the significance of Peter’s words. 

“It’s a play on words.Fallen angels are angels who serve the devil,” Wendy said, “They live in hell.Neverland isn’t paradise for anyone but him, so it’s hell.” 

“Wendy,” Tink said nervously, “You’ve been to Neverland twice, and you’ve left twice?”

“Yes.” 

“Then you’ve ‘fallen’ into hell twice.You’ve escaped twice.‘She always falls in the end...’” The fairy was starting to look sick. 

“He’s saying no matter how many times I escape, I’ll always go back there,” Wendy said miserably. She put her head in her hands.She’d only been away from Neverland for three months.While it was true she didn’t quite fit in yet, she had learned the other day that she _could._ If she tried to be Gwen, and let go of Neverland, then it was possible for her to have a home here.

“Wendy,” Tink whispered, horrified, “It’s not just that.He is _coming_ for you.But with this,” she pointed to the diary, “He’s telling you he’s already here.” 


	6. Let's Play

Wendy couldn’t begin to fathom what Tink had told her.Peter was here?Where?How could he possibly hide in a town touched by magic?How could no one have noticed how very different his magic was?Perhaps more importantly, in a town so small that everyone knew each other, how had no one noticed the boy who was so obviously out of place?

Apparently, no one had, and that scared her most of all.Because if no one had noticed, that meant Peter could be anywhere. 

At first, she hadn’t been sure what to do with the information.Emma had already made it clear that she didn’t believe her.Regina wanted to blame her, despite the fact Felix was in jail.Mary Margaret would put it up to her being traumatized, and David would agree with his wife.Perhaps Hook could talk some sense into them, but when could she ever get him alone to tell him that they had been right? 

Still, Wendy knew there was at least one Lost Boy she had to warn:Tootles.She had always cared for him, out of all the Lost Boys.He was constantly bumbling and stumbling about after the others, trying desperately to be involved in games that he was so unequipped to play.He was a mediocre hunter, at best, and was best known for “shooting” Wendy out of the sky when she first came to Neverland.His arrow had grazed her hand, causing her to flinch in pain- and let go of the Shadow.When she realized what was happening, she had futilely thrown her arms out in an attempt to imitate the Shadow and fly.Of course, it didn’t work- she had no pixie dust and hadn’t been taught yet -and she plummeted towards the waves. 

* * *

 

Peter, though she didn’t know he was Peter then, swooped in, and at the last second, caught her.He held her in his arms easily, as if she was weightless.Her mouth dropped open, stunned by the beautiful, bronze-haired boy who had rescued her.She couldn’t seem to stop herself from staring into his fey green eyes.They glowed with an eerie light.

“Hello, Bird,” he’d said, grinning at her. 

That moment, the very first moment they’d met, had been burned into her mind forever.

She saw a hint of his darkness shortly afterwards.Peter flew her to the shore, and set her down on the warm sand.The Lost Boys emerged from the jungle as one (Neverland had been a jungle when she first arrived; it had changed drastically on her second visit), each toting bows and arrows.They stared at her, open-mouthed, unable to understand the anomaly of a girl in a white nightgown.She was undeniably pretty, and they felt they had never seen something so pretty before. 

Nibs blurted, “Who are you?” 

“She’s a _lady_!” Slightly admonished, “Be nice!”Slightly thought he knew everything, and claimed to remember parts of his life before he arrived at the island.The other boys remembered certain things, of course, but unlike Slightly, they never claimed to remember anything good. 

Unable to suppress a smile, Wendy said, “I’m Wendy.Wendy Moira Angela Darling.”She curtsied, and the boys murmured their names in an incoherent blur.It was if they couldn’t introduce themselves fast enough. 

Peter’s voice, though, rang out loud and clear, “I’m Peter.Peter Pan.”He swept her an elegant bow, eyes dancing.Wendy blushed and looked away.She fingered the sides of her gown, shy in the presence of such a handsome boy. 

Suddenly, Peter stepped forward and grabbed her hand, “You’re hurt.”He held it up and examined it.Sure enough, she had a cut on the inside of her palm, and it was bleeding.The injury had first come to his attention because he noticed the blood on the skirt of her nightgown.

At once, he spun around and demanded, “Who did it?”He glared at each boy in turn, and they faced him, pale and silent.None dared speak. 

“I said,” Peter repeated himself, tone deadly, “ _Who did it_?” 

When he was met by silence once again, he said, “It’s an arrow wound.You are the only ones hunting in this area of the island right now.It was one of you.Tell me who.Now.” 

That was the first time Wendy had ever heard of his omniscience on the island- he knew where every single person was at all times -but she didn’t notice it then.She was more preoccupied with the cut on on her hand, which now that Peter had pointed it out, she realized hurt.She was also more preoccupied with Peter’s reaction. 

“Very well,” Peter sighed, “One of you took blood from her, and one of you must give it back.That’s only playing fair.And if you won’t tell me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I’ll just pick.”He began to unsheath his dagger and start towards the end of the line, where the newest Lost Boy- who at the time was Curly -was white as a ghost.

At that, Tootles, who was the most kind-hearted of them all, stepped forward, “The arrow was mine, Peter.”He tried to stand tall and unafraid, but his voice trembled.Nevertheless, he looked Peter straight in the eyes. 

“Well then,” Peter said, “You will die.”This time, he unsheathed his dagger fully.The silver blade glinted in the sunlight, and the dagger swept in a graceful arc towards Tootles’ throat. 

“Wait!” Wendy shouted, “Peter, wait!” She ran forward, placing her hand on his sword arm.The boy turned to her, surprised less at her reaction and more that she had dared to stop him.He gazed at her, absolutely fascinated.

Heart pounding, Wendy said, “It’s okay.You don’t need to kill him.You shouldn’t, actually.He didn’t _mean_ to take blood from me.”She didn’t move a muscle, though she subtly saw Tootles start to sidle backwards. 

Peter was confused, “But he did.And the rules say blood for blood.” 

“The rules?” This time, it was Wendy’s turn to be confused.She didn’t understand.

“Yes, the rules.This place,” he gestured to the island around him, “runs on dreams, and imagination-”

“Neverland’s wonderful!” Slightly interjected, his smile a little too bright, “We play games all day-” It was obvious he was trying to lessen the tension. 

Peter quickly cut him off, “We do play games, and we _always_ have fun.But in a place that runs on dreams and imagination, you can’t have too many dreams competing with each other.It would ruin them.”He looked at her expectantly, as though she should have seen this logic was obvious. 

“I see,” Wendy replied, though she really didn’t. 

“So to keep them from ruining each other, one imagination runs the island above all other’s.” 

“Whose imagination?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.It couldn’t be anyone else’s. 

“Mine,” Peter smirked again, confirming her suspicions, “and because my imagination runs the island...I make the rules for the games.”There was something sinister about the way he said it.Involuntarily, she shivered.Then, she shook her head, refusing to be intimidated. She’d come here for adventures, after all!She couldn’t start an adventure afraid, could she? 

Gathering her courage, Wendy said boldly, “Then change the rules.” 

Peter cocked an eyebrow at her, “The rules aren’t meant to be changed.The boys have always followed them.And we’ve had fun, haven’t we, boys?”All the Lost Boys, with the exception of Tootles, cheered raucously.Wendy wasn’t sure if it was genuine or if they didn’t want Peter’s anger directed at them.In retrospect, she would come to believe it was both. 

“Yes, but I’m not a boy, Peter,” Wendy said, “I’m a girl.From what I understand, you’ve never had a girl here before, have you?”She looked at the boys for confirmation, and they shook their heads. 

“What about Tink?” Curly asked softly.He blinked, puzzled.

“She doesn’t count,” Slightly retorted.He rolled his eyes at the new boy, as if wondering how long it would take him to learn the ways of Neverland. 

“Then you’ve never had a girl play.Let’s make a new game, since there’s a new player!” Wendy said conspiratorially.She looked Peter directly in the eyes, utterly fearless now.For his part, Peter was intrigued by her.Aside from the fact that she was an enigma anyway- the Shadow _never_ brought girls -she was the only person who had challenged him in _ages._

She was interesting. 

“All right,” Peter sheathed his dagger, “Tootles lives.”Carelessly, he waved Tootles away.The boy let out a great breath he had been holding, and a few of the younger boys ran to him and hugged him. 

Then Peter stepped towards Wendy.He was so close to her she could feel his breath on her lips.Then he smiled at her, all traces of menace gone.Instead he was the magnetic, mesmerizing boy she had first seen, and he announced: 

“Let’s play.” 

* * *

 

Forcing back the memories, Wendy made her way to room 306.She’d skipped her own class- the first time she’d ever done something so rebellious -to intercept Tootles before he left for lunch.She couldn’t figure out how else to get him by himself and warn him.He lived with Felix (not by choice; it was merely the way Emma had ended up assigning them to various homes).Wendy knew she couldn’t trust many people now, but Tootles- poor, Tootles, who after her, was the greatest traitor -she could.And Tootles would most certainly be dead if he didn’t watch his back. 

The bell rang a few seconds later, and freshmen streamed out of the classroom.Several of them gave her curious looks, and four briefly spoke to her (two even tried to ask her to the dance, who she politely declined), but she ignored them in favor of the boy she sought.As she expected, he was out last of all, lugging a ripped backpack along behind him. 

“Wendy!” his eyes widened as he spotted her, “I mean, Gwen-” A few books dropped out of his bag, and he awkwardly rushed to retrieve them.Wendy caught one and quickly returned it, immediately launching into her warning: 

“Tootles, that doesn’t matter.Listen to me.You’re in incredible danger-”

“So are you,” he replied mirthlessly, “Wendy, why are you here?Why aren’t you hiding with the sheriff?”He knew what she was to Pan, and he also knew that Pan would stop at nothing to find her. 

“They don’t believe me,” the girl sighed, keeping her voice low, “They don’t want to.”She looked back and forth down the hallway, trying to ensure no one overheard them.There were maybe five people left, and they slammed their lockers shut.Oblivious to the pair, they chattered and headed towards the cafeteria. 

“But he _is_ back,” Tootles said.He slumped against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor. 

“Yes,” Wendy confirmed, “and he’s going after everyone who betrayed him.Tootles, it’s only a matter of time before he goes after you, too.Please, promise me you won’t go anywhere alone!” she slid down next to him, putting her own notebooks in a neat pile by her feet, “You’ve got to stay with someone, always.” 

“Who can I stay with?” Tootles said miserably.He put his head in his hands, ready to cry.He had always been the outcast, even in Neverland.Part of the group, but just on the fringes.He knew what it was like to be on the outside looking in.Normally it just hurt, but now, it could be deadly.

“Move in with Nibs and Slightly.They betrayed him too, and he’ll go after them,” she said, “but everyone who’s died so far has been by themselves. _Don’t_ leave each other alone.And you’re almost always in classes with each other.That way...hopefully...you each have a chance.” 

“And what about you, Wendy?” Tootles inquired, “You can’t go with anyone.John and Michael can’t protect you.No one at school knows him.Tink’s a traitor and probably marked to die.Hook won’t help you, not when he’s got Emma and Henry to protect.” 

Wendy swallowed, for she had no answer to that.The truth was, she was probably the least safe out of everyone. 

Just then, the lights flickered and dimmed.A strange fizzing sound came from them, and sparks appeared, but quickly faded.As the hallway became consumed by shadow, Wendy’s heart slammed in her ribcage. 

“He’s here,” Tootles whispered.He turned to her, his face beginning to perspire, “Wendy, he’s _here._ ” 

They were engulfed in darkness, though the lights let out a flurry of sparks one last time.In the afterglow, she saw the familiar silhouette that haunted her dreams.Then everything went black.

“Run, Tootles,” Wendy said, softly at first.Then, panic started to grip her, and she screamed, “Tootles, **_run!_** ” She yanked him to his feet, took his hand, and started to run to the left. Abruptly, she came up short.She was jerked backwards, and realized that Tootles had actually dug his feet into the ground. 

“Wendy, we can’t go together!” the boy insisted, “There’s two of us, and one of him!If we run together, we’ll both be killed!But if we split up-” he was panting. 

“Absolutely not,” Wendy hissed, “I am not letting you die!”She clamped her hand around his even more forcefully, but Tootles smiled sadly: 

“You saved me once.I still owe you blood.”Then, before she could stop him, he took off in the other direction. 

Wendy had no choice but to muffle her tears as she ran down the hallway. 

She swore she could hear laughter. 


	7. Neverland's

Wendy ran down the hallway as fast as she could. Rounding a corner, she spotted something next to the wall she thought could help- or at least save any of the other boys in the school: the fire alarm.Grimacing, she pulled her fist back, then smashed it through the glass.A few shards were stuck in her hand, but she ignored them and yanked the lever.At once, the whine of the alarm rang throughout the school.Sprinklers turned on, covering the halls with water.She could hear people in the cafeteria yelling and complaining about their books getting soaked.Still, slowly, they trickled out of the building and onto the grass, awaiting the Fire Department’s arrival to investigate.

Struggling to catch her breath, Wendy followed.Numbly, she cradled one hand in the other.She stood on her tiptoes, gazing over the crowd, hoping against hope to spot Tootles.She found almost all of the others- Nibs, Slightly, and Curly among them -but not Tootles.Biting back a cry of frustration, she struggled not to scream. 

“Gwen!”

Grace ran to catch up with her, “Oh my God, Gwen.What happened?”The stunned teenager looked at Wendy from her head to her toes.Her friend was drenched, brown hair laying flat across her shoulders.The blue blouse she’d worn was torn.Her eyes were red, and one hand was bleeding badly. 

“Grace,” Wendy said sadly, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”Besides, if she told Grace, she had no doubt it would put her in danger.She figured Grace and Gretel were safe for now- they’d never played a game with Pan, unlike herself, the Lost Boys, and Tink -nor had they crossed him.They were neutrals, background figures who happened to surround her.So long as they didn’t fight him, he’d most likely leave them alone. 

“Try me,” Grace folded her arms.She stared her down.While Grace looked angry, in reality, she was more concerned for her friend.The past week had put a huge strain on her.While dealing with murder had never been easy- let alone the murder of people you’d known for years -there was something more critical that had been affecting Gwen.It had changed her entirely, and she was breaking down right in front of Grace.Grace didn’t understand why Gwen wouldn’t tell her- perhaps she could help. 

“Not if you want to stay alive,” someone hissed.Wendy looked up in shock to see a livid Tink.The fairy grabbed Wendy’s good arm and started tugging her away from the students, who gave them curious glances. 

“Hey!” Grace yelled, “What do you think you’re doing?Gwen’s my friend, and _you_ dropped out!” She strode after the two Neverlanders, face growing red.She was irate that Tinkerbell had just walked in, threatened her, and dragged Gwen away from the one person who- in Grace’s mind -could help her. 

“One,” Tink said, “Her name is Wendy.Two, she had a life before she became your friend, and that life was far more dangerous than anything _you_ ever had to deal with. Three, in that life, everyone who knew her- everyone who knew _us_ -lived with death every day. You know _nothing_ about her.And four, the only reason I dropped out was because I didn’t want to deal with immature twits like you!”Then she spun around and left an open-mouthed Grace behind.As if pulled along by the tide, Wendy couldn’t help but go with her.

“That was cruel,” Wendy muttered.She meant to berate Tink, though the fairy didn’t care. 

“But necessary,” Tink handed Wendy a handkerchief.The girl grimaced and accepted it, stemming the flow of blood from her wounds.The two walked for a while, pushing through confused students.Eventually, they were on the outskirts of the crowd, unnoticed by the teachers.While the students paid them a little attention- Tink hadn’t been seen on the grounds in a while -they were still more concerned with their books.Tink stared at Wendy expectantly, as if waiting for a reaction.The girl was silent, and frustrated, the fairy commanded, “You have to stop pretending you’re someone you’re not! You _aren’t_ Gwen Carissima, ordinary, careless, girl-”

“Tink, stop-” Wendy pleaded, but Tink ignored her: 

“-you are Wendy Darling, and you and I both know that anyone who tries to keep Wendy Darling away from Peter Pan dies.”The words hung heavy between them, a truth neither could ignore. 

* * *

_Wendy sat on the edge of the lagoon.Giggling, she dipped her toes in the crystalline water, and splashed the boy who swam around in front of her.His eyes were a warm, chocolate brown.In the real world, his name had been Andrew, but like many Lost Boys who wanted to forget their pasts, he’d gained a nickname from Peter:Del.Peter hadn’t wanted to call him that at first, but when Wendy had remarked his eyes looked like chocolate and suggested he be called “Delicious” (much to the other Boys’ laughter), Peter had both humored her and made Del a joke to the other boys.Still, Del had quickly gained a camaraderie with the Boys, and most had forgotten his silly full name.Wendy only remembered it sometimes, when he did sweet things for her._

_She couldn’t remember when it had started, exactly.One day he’d brought her blue flowers from a treetop she’d never been able to scale.She’d often mentioned how pretty she’d found the flowers, and as she hadn’t been taught to fly yet, couldn’t reach them herself.Another day Del had found tiny jewels left behind in a clearing where fairies had danced the night before.When Wendy asked why fairies had left jewels behind, Del had mentioned that they’d probably had such fun dancing they hadn’t even noticed jewels fall off their dresses.A dubious Wendy had asked Tink later, and the fairy grudgingly confirmed it.Del took the jewels and made them into a tiny brooch, which she wore often.He’d also taught her to swim in this lagoon- which was the safest on the island (mermaids didn’t like it because it was so shallow)._

_All that Wendy knew was suddenly, she’d started to blush when he was in her presence._

_Del grinned more broadly every time he spotted her.When Peter played his pipes, and the boys danced around the fires at night, Del began to dance_ with _her instead of the other boys._

_Neither noticed how angry Peter’s eyes grew whenever he saw them together._

_Today was a particularly warm day on the island.Most of the boys had begun a game of chase.A few others had hoped to run into the Indians who lived on the opposite side of the island.Peter had disappeared, as he sometimes did, and Del had suggested Wendy and he take advantage of the nice weather and the lagoon for her to practice swimming._

_Wendy had yet to go in, but she was greatly enjoying splashing Del with the water._

_“Wendy!” he yelled at her, “You need to_ practice!” 

_“I am,” she laughed, the sound like tinkling bells._

_“That,” Del swam toward her, “does not look like practicing to me.”His face was full of mischief._

_“Of course it is,” Wendy replied innocently, “I’m practicing splashing you!”Then she went at it again._

_Del responded by grabbing her ankles and throwing her into the water.Wendy shrieked as she came up for air.Rubbing her eyes, she tried to clear her vision._

_“Del!” she shouted, “Del!You are going to pay for that!”Even though she was “mad,” she was still giggling.The water was a perfect temperature, as always, and the sand was warm and squishy beneath her feet.Her white nightgown billowed around her._

_Abruptly, Wendy noticed Del was nowhere to be found, “Del?” she called, hesitant at first.She whipped her head around, searching for his form.This wasn’t like him.Even if he were planning to surprise her, he would have done it by now.Del, while an excellent swimmer, had never been able to hold his breath for very long._

_Suddenly, she felt something grab her leg.She had only a moment to look down at the smiling face of a mermaid as the creature pulled her beneath the water.Wendy fought, clawing and scratching at the mermaid, but it was no use.The mermaid merely tightened her hold on the frightened girl and began to swim towards the darker waters of the ocean, her amethyst tail winking in the sunlight._

_Wendy was certain she would die when she heard the mermaid screech underwater.A bit of blood floated before Wendy’s eyes, and she found herself released.She floated aimlessly for a few seconds.Then strong arms fastened around her and carried her out of the lagoon’s waters.There was a brief, dizzying, sensation of flying, and she fought to recover her senses._

_“Wendy!” Peter smoothed the wet hair out of her face.His green eyes roved over hers, and he gently laid her beneath a palm tree.Dimly, Wendy could see the fronds waving above her._

_“Wendy, are you all right?” Peter queried, checking her for injuries.His fingers danced over her, reassuring himself that she was unharmed.There were two blue bruises where the mermaid had clutched her, but nothing else._

_“I’m- I’m okay,” Wendy gasped, “but Del- he’s still in there!”She coughed up water, and before she could say another word, Peter flew upwards and dove straight back into the lagoon.He didn’t surface for a long time._

_Just when Wendy thought that the mermaids had somehow, impossibly, tried to drown him too, Peter emerged.He held a mermaid by the hair, and was speaking furiously to her in their strange, clicking language.She hissed at him, but must have given him an answer, because he let her go.Quickly, she swam away, and Peter returned to the shore.He approached Wendy, a grave look on his face, and she immediately knew what he was going to say._

_“No,” she whispered, eyes filling with tears, “No!”_

_“I’m sorry, Wendy,” the boy said.He knelt next to her, and wiped one stray tear off her cheek._

_“Why, Peter?” she demanded, “Why did they do it?They never swim here!They don’t like it here!Why were they here?Why-”_

_“She said that he was stealing something,” the boy replied simply.Then Wendy threw he arms around him, and he held her as she cried._

* * *

“Why, Tink?” Wendy demanded, “Why can’t I be Gwen?What is so _bad_ about that?”She didn’t mean to sound as petulant as she did.It was just that she had thought for once, she could be happy, and there were no strings attached to her happiness. There were no tricks or traps left by a handsome boy.Affection came independent of pain.She could spend days with her heart whole, instead of it being cracked and pieced together with glimpses of love, and then having parts slip away no matter how hard she tried.She had _seen_ that.She _wanted_ that.Finally, she wanted to let go, because if she only tried, then Storybrooke had things to give her Neverland never could. 

“Because you aren’t Gwen,” Tink insisted, “Neverland touched you, and just like the rest of us, you became Neverland’s.The island claimed you. _Peter_ claimed you.And we are the only ones who recognize him for the danger he is.If no one else will believe in him, we have to,” the fairy said grimly, “and we have to fight back.”

 


	8. Wendy-Bird

When Wendy returned home, she sat on her bed for nearly three hours, clutching a pillow.She thought and agonized about what Tink said. 

_You aren’t Gwen Carissima, ordinary, careless, girl.You are Wendy Darling._

Yes, she was Wendy Darling.Unluckily for her, Gwen didn’t exist.She was a hopeless dream. Wendy had to accept the lot she was dealt in life, and that was as herself, the constant attraction for a mad boy-king. 

Sighing, she took out a duffle bag from beneath her bed and began to pack.Sweaters.Jeans.Combat boots.A few skirts, just in case she had somewhere nice to go, though she didn’t think so, considering recent events.Comb, brush, cell phone charger.Cell phone. 

Wendy scrolled through her most recent text messages.At least twelve from Grace, demanding to know if she was all right and where on earth Tink had taken her to, ten from Gretel, saying more or less the same thing, surprisingly, a few from Ferdinand, asking her to the dance, and the brief thread she had with Tink. 

 

TINK:Talked to Emma.She thinks we’re crazy. 

WENDY: That’s nothing new. 

TINK:Either way, she says she’ll let us spend the night there.She also says she’ll stay with us. 

WENDY:Good.Who’s going to be watching Felix? 

TINK: David, I guess.I didn’t ask.Just hurry up. 

 

Admittedly, Emma really only thought they would be at Regina’s for the night, but Wendy and Tink intended to go somewhere they felt they could meet Pan with backup.Somewhere Wendy thought was away from John and Michael, so they wouldn’t be dragged into this again.The two Neverlanders didn’t really expect to be going back to their homes for a while, because once Pan made his appearance, they couldn’t be left alone. 

Consequently, Wendy was going around and picking up the things she expected she would need if she were to be away for at least a month.She went into the bathroom and considered her toiletries.She figured shampoo and conditioner would work, plus toothbrush and toothpaste.Other than that, she wasn’t sure she needed much. 

As she returned to her bedroom, she noticed the worn diary- the tattered diary representing her time in Neverland -had moved.Instead of its hiding place in her desk, it was resting neatly atop her folded clothes in the duffle bag.Her eyes flicked to the side of her desk, where her pink diary had been deposited in the trash. 

Neither were where they had been two minutes before. 

Hesitantly, she approached her duffle bag.She forced herself to open the diary, and a few black feathers fluttered to the ground.One remained in the book, on the last page, and she flipped to it: 

 

_Nice to see you, Bird._

 

It was the same scratchy, angular writing as before, and what little doubt she had in her mind was shredded.The arrogance of the phrase!He was so casual, so cocky about it, as if they’d met each other in the park, long-lost acquaintances reuniting.As if their relationship wasn’t far more complex.

Angry now, she whirled around, inspecting every inch of her room: 

“Peter?” she queried.She struggled to keep her voice calm as she waited for his own greeting, which was sure to be cutting.

Silence. 

Instinctively, Wendy cast her gaze to the ceiling.It was a reflexive habit she’d developed in Neverland.Peter had often liked to fly upwards, staying close to the ceiling of her treehouse, and scare her as she lay in her bed.But he wasn’t there. 

He _had_ to be in her room though.He had gone through her things.He had removed both diaries from their hiding places quickly and easily- which suggested he had known where they were previously.How long, she wondered, had he been watching her?She shivered at the thought. 

Then she realized her closet door was closed.It had been open before she’d gone to the bathroom. 

_Oh God._

Slowly, carefully, she stepped towards her closet.The wooden floorboards creaked beneath her.They sounded like explosions compared to the quiet around her, with only the light hiss of her heater in the background.Her heart slamming against her ribcage, and her hand shaking, she reached for the golden knob. 

She took a deep breath, and pulled the door open. 

She didn’t know what she expected, exactly, but it certainly wasn’t just her clothes on their hangers.Disbelievingly, she went through them, waiting for Peter to reveal himself.What would he look like here?Would he be dressed in modern clothes?Or the outfit made of green leaves and rough fibers she knew so well? 

She could still feel its course thread on her skin. 

Then, she noticed a piece of paper- clearly ripped from the diary -lying on the ground by her lone pair of high heels.Checking the ceiling in the closet just to be sure he wasn’t lurking above her- nothing -she bent down and retrieved it:

 

_Bird, what are you doing all caged up in here?Don’t you want to fly?_

Then she heard soft laughter, as if from a ghost. Her window cracked open with a burst of cool air. She raced to her window, but he was nowhere to be found.Cars drove up and down the street.Granny and Red chatted as they strolled down the sidewalk, carrying bags of groceries.Dr. Hopper was walking Pongo.They all were oblivious to her presence at the window. 

Surely he didn’t mean for her to jump. 

Did he? 

He’d once promised her he’d always catch her. 

But that had been before.

* * *

 

_The day had finally arrived.Peter had at last said he would teach her to fly.Practically squealing with excitement, Wendy was waiting, as instructed, in the middle of a clearing.Jungle trees surrounded her, and a few of the Lost Boys sat on a pile of rocks on the side.Felix and Rufio were talking in hushed voices.When Rufio saw her, he waved, and she happily waved back.Felix drawled:_

_“Are you sure you want to fly, Wendy?It’s dangerous.” He smirked at her._

_“I’m not afraid,” Wendy said confidently.She did know it was dangerous, but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.He was truly the only Lost Boy she didn’t like.She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him, but she had despised him from the moment she’d met him._

_Felix raised an eyebrow, “You’re not afraid?You, who won’t even go to the lagoon anymore?”_

_“Mermaids can’t fly,” she retorted, folding her arms.She refused to acknowledge his remark.It was cruel, the way he made fun of Del’s death.It was also cruel how he made the boys go to the Mermaids’ Lagoon.Didn’t he know how dangerous it was?_

_He chuckled, “Whatever you say, Wendy.”Then his gaze moved to the sky, and he barked:_

_“Boys, in line!Pan’s here.”_

_The Lost Boys jostled each other in a rush to get into position.Rufio laughed at their efforts and rearranged them so they were organized by height. They all sucked in a breath, waiting patiently._

_Wendy too looked to the perfect blue sky, and at once, Peter made a brilliant, graceful landing before her.He bowed to her, with a brilliant smile, and she curtsied back.It had been their custom to do this whenever they met._

_“Are you ready to fly, Wendy-bird?”_

_“Oh, yes!”_

_His face lit up at her eager smile, and he crossed his arms, “Then let’s begin.Boys, what do you need to fly?”He wasn’t so much quizzing them as he was playing to his audience.Peter Pan, ever one for dramatics, did everything with flair.It made his magnetic presence even more mesmerizing, and Wendy had decided that was what made him the leader over everyone else.Aside from his skill with weaponry, he was the leader simply because he dazzled the others.If she was honest, he dazzled her, too._

_“Happy thoughts!” Curly supplied._

_“‘Happy thoughts?’” Peter repeated.He shared an amused glance with Rufio and Felix._

_“Yes,” Curly insisted, “Lots of happy thoughts.You think happy thoughts, and they lift you into the air!”He spread his arms wide, as if he too was about to take off._

_“Curly,” Rufio laughed, “Where did you come up with that?” It was certainly something no one in Neverland had told him._

_Curly blinked, “In London, when I was sad, I felt like I could never get out of bed, because I didn’t have anyone to love me.But then I would think of all the parents who were coming through the orphanage that day looking for children, and it was a happy thought, and I would get up.But no one wanted me to be part of their family,” he paused, “I was too old, so then I would grow sad again.One day the Shadow came, though, and the Shadow wanted_ me. _That was such a happy thought that I was able to fly away with it to Neverland.”_

_A heavy silence hung over them all.Peter rarely, if ever, let them discuss their lives before Neverland.It simply ruined the fun, and Neverland was supposed to be a place of eternal fun.However, for a moment, he too was dumbstruck by Curly’s earnest explanation._

_Wendy said, “I think that’s a lovely idea, Curly.That you need happy thoughts to fly.”_

_She gave Peter a meaningful look.Despite himself, he found himself agreeing with her:_

_“You’re right, Curly.You need happy thoughts to fly.And Neverland is your home and we are your family-”_

_“And we want you to be part of it, always,” Wendy finished with a smile._

_Curly looked from one of them to the other, then asked, “So you are Mother and Father?”_

_“What?” Peter repeated, stunned.This was not something he had even conceived of.He_ hated _parents.They had no place in Neverland._

_“All families have a mother and father,” Curly stated, as if this should be obvious. He looked so hopeful that Wendy couldn’t bear to deny him.She put a hand on Peter’s arm, and he rolled his eyes:_

_“Fine.Wendy’s Mother and I’m Father.And now Mother needs to learn to fly.”With that, Peter redirected the conversation:_

_“While you do need happy thoughts, you also need pixie dust,” he reached into the small leather bag hung on his belt, and retrieved the precious dust.Wendy gasped at the sight.It was somehow a million shades of green at once.It outshone any emeralds she had ever seen before- any jewels she’d ever owned.It glittered, and she was utterly fascinated._

_“It’s beautiful, Peter,” she murmured._

_Before she could say another word, he softly blew it towards her, his lips rounded in a perfect o._

_Wendy’s heart started to pound.Had she imagined that?Had Peter Pan just blown her a kiss?She blushed with happiness at the thought, and she couldn’t seem to turn her gaze away from him.He was grinning widely.It was perhaps the widest she’d ever seen him smile, and she couldn’t figure out why until she finally forced herself to stop staring into his enchanting eyes.Then she gasped.Unwittingly, she had flown so high that they were just over the tops of the trees.She could see the entire island from here- the Mermaids’ Lagoon, the Jolly Roger, the Indian camp, Skull Rock.She was stunned at the beauty of Neverland, and wondered how she had gone so long without seeing it this way- Peter’s way.Why had he kept her from it?He’d said, each time she asked, that she wasn’t ready.She had no idea why, because she felt more than ready every time he and the boys flew, chasing the clouds and leaving her in her treehouse._

_Then she looked down.Fear overtook her, and her brain told her, You cannot fly. No one can fly.The logic kept repeating itself over and over in her head, even though she lived daily with boys who could_ _and did fly about.She stopped believing, and then she began to plummet to the ground.Her speed increased, and she was going faster and faster- she would surely die-_

_She closed her eyes, and at the last moment, the rushing stopped.Wendy peeked out of one eye, to find herself yet again in Peter’s arms.He was staring at her, and she couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes._

_“You stopped believing,” he said._

_“I didn’t mean to,” she replied, immediately contrite and desperate to explain, “I just- I thought I would fall- and there was no one to catch me -”_

_Quite seriously, Peter told her, “I will_ always _catch you._ ” _It sounded like a vow._

_Wendy’s heart skipped a beat, “I believe you.”Her words too seemed like an unbreakable, sacred oath._

_“Good.Come on Bird.Let’s try again.And don’t stop believing,” he warned her._

_“I won’t ever stop believing in you, Peter,” she promised._

_“Never?” Peter raised an eyebrow, as he lead her back into the air._

_“Never,” Wendy swore, holding his hand tight._

* * *

Wendy leaned out the window, looking frantically from right to left.She could see nothing on the roofs of the buildings beside her own, but she had every confidence that he could hear her.He always did.

“Peter, I’m _not_ jumping.I won’t,” she declared, “but let’s see if you can catch me.” 

With that, she slammed the window shut.Then she grabbed her cell phone and a light jacket, and left the apartment.On the way down the stairs, she texted Tink, rapid-fire: 

 

WENDY:He’s at my apartment.I don’t know how.But he is.I’m trying to keep him away from the town.I’m going to the wood to the oak clearing.Come find me, and bring the sheriff...the mayor...everyone you think can stop him. 

 

She didn’t wait to hear the answer, only focused on protecting her brothers and neighbors.Instead, she ran out the door, then circled behind the brick building.A forest loomed before her, the dying leaves all arrayed in the red and yellows of autumn.She knew he would follow her.He’d been following her for days already. 

Besides, she thought he would appreciate her cleverness. 

After all, birds flew in forests. 

When she reached the clearing, about a mile in- a spot she and Tink knew well, for it was where the high schoolers sometimes went to hang out undisturbed -she spun around.The woods were quiet.That was a telltale sign of his presence.The animals were afraid- and they were right to be.A new predator was stalking the woods, and he was far more dangerous than anything they had ever encountered. 

Luckily, he wasn’t interested in them. 

“Peter!” Wendy called.She received no response, though she did hear a twig snap behind her.She turned to the sound, but there was no one there.All she could see was the sun was setting lazily behind the trees.It would have been beautiful on a normal day, but today was not normal.

“Peter!” she said again, “I know you’re here, Peter!”A bit upset, now- she just wanted to get the inevitable confrontation over with -she tried to goad him: 

“Come out, Peter!Come out, right _now!”_

Of course, he didn’t listen.

But another twig did snap.He was doing that on purpose- to goad _her._ To anger her and to make her afraid. 

To her dismay, he was succeeding remarkably. 

“Peter,” she said, his name this time almost coming out like a prayer, “Please.I know you’re here.”Maybe he wanted her to beg. 

Apparently not, because there was still no response. 

So she played her last card: 

“I wanted to believe you were dead.” 

They were fatal words, and she knew then that there was no turning back.She had brought Peter Pan out of hiding and into Storybrooke.The wind picked up behind her, and she whipped around to see him throw a cloak over his shoulder.His fey green eyes were bright with madness: 

“Oh Wendy-bird, did you really believe I was gone?” 

  


	9. Changing the Game

He stood there, cocky, confident, and beautiful.It was as if he had walked straight out of her dreams to stand before her. Green, stunning eyes, sun-kissed bronze hair, and lean, taut muscle, clothed in his leather boots and outfit of stitched leaves.

Yet he smiled the same way, as if he were happy to see her.That scared her most of all.

“How?” Wendy croaked, taking a few steps backwards, “How did you survive that?How _could_ you survive that?”She’d _seen_ Regina tear his heart out.It had been blackened, and the red representing his life faded the more the Evil Queen touched it.Regina had finally held it in front of his face, taunting him with it as he lay on the floor dying, before hurling it into the depths of the ocean beside Skull Rock. 

“I’d tell you,” Peter said, “but that would ruin the game.”He smirked at her.She couldn’t fathom how he already had a plan in place.And his games were always dangerous.The Twins, if they were alive, could testify to that.But Wendy didn’t know what this one was, and cautiously, she tried to find out: 

“The game?”

“Yes.There’s a new game, Wendy, but I’m afraid you can’t play.I can’t trust you.You didn’t play fair last time.”He walked towards her, and she doubled over, fighting back tears.Part of her was terrified that her nightmares had come to life.Another part of her, the part, she didn’t want to acknowledge, was grateful to see him alive.She hated herself for it. 

“You were going to kill him, Peter,” she whispered, reminding both him and herself of his awful intention, “You wanted to rip his heart out-”

“I’ve killed people plenty of times, and you never had a problem with it then,” Peter said dismissively.He raised an eyebrow at her, and crossed his arms. Wendy had no answer for that, as he knew she wouldn’t.Still, he liked to know everything, and he needed to know one thing: 

“Why this time, Wendy?What made Henry Mills so special that you betrayed me?”It was something he had wondered for a long time, and even in the darkness of his heart, it bothered him.He had thought he was the center of Wendy Darling’s world, and that she couldn’t bear to be without him. Then she’d gone and left him to die, and he never understood her reasons.Ripping his heart out hadn’t killed him, but that fact, that Wendy Darling had left him, made him die a little every day.

Peter circled around her like a predator surveying his prey.She could feel his breath on her neck, and she resisted the urge to fall back against the chest, as she had so many times before. 

“It wasn’t just him, Peter,” she explained, though he would never comprehend her feelings, “I felt like I’d lost you.”There were no words to describe what she had gone through in those last, agonizing days. The choice she had had to make.How she had broken her heart to give up his. 

“Lost _me_?” he chuckled, “I was never lost.”The very notion was foreign to him.He had always had a place:the king of Neverland.His boys were Lost, at least in name, though to him were only lost to their old worlds.He had found them.He had saved them. 

But he himself was never lost. 

“What do you want, Peter?” Wendy demanded, “I don’t have time to play games with you-”He always had a desire, an end in mind, and despite their past, despite everything that had had happened between him, there were people she needed to protect.And so she had to remember everything he had done, and focus only on that.Trying to get him to understand something he never would was a waste of time. 

“Oh yes,” Peter noted sarcastically, “All grown up now, aren’t we?” He picked up a lock of her hair, letting the silken strands run through his fingers.Almost against her will, Wendy shivered: 

“Stop, Peter.Just stop.” 

“Why would I?I’m having so much _fun_.And I’ve only just started!” he came around in front of her again, grinning as though he had merely been fighting with the pirates again. 

“Stop it,” Wendy hissed, “Stop this _now._ Stop killing people.Stop _murdering_ the boys.They were afraid of you-”

“They knew the rules,” Peter replied, utterly shameless, “They broke them.They paid the price.”Absentmindedly, he began to play with his dagger.It was like he was fondly reminiscing about killing his friends. 

“And what about me, Peter?” Wendy said, “I broke the rules.By that logic, I should be dead.” 

“But that would be no fun at all!” Peter retorted almost jokingly, before his voice grew deathly serious, “Now, Wendy.You will do me a favor.Tell them to release Felix.He’s done nothing; all the boys died by my hand.Then let them know I am here, and they will meet with me and give me what I want.” 

“And what’s that?” 

“You’ll find out, Wendy-bird.Though you should already know.”He trailed one hand down her cheek, his rough fingers, calloused from so many battles, like fire on her soft skin. Unable to bear it, she turned away from him.He was right.She had spent so many days running from him, and so many nights at his side.While none could claim to know Peter Pan, she was one of the few with whom he’d shared at least a little.She could never win his games, but she could guess.And she was clever enough to try, which was, she suspected, part of the reason he’d kept her in Neverland.Even boys who lived forever got bored, every once in a while, and she provided a foil to him. 

Without another word, he took off into the air and was gone.She watched his silhouette disappear among the branches, and for a second, she found herself remembering the day he’d taught her to fly.She’d forgotten how, it seemed, otherwise she’d fly after him and rip his heart out herself. 

“Wendy!” Tink called frantically.She was trailed by Emma, Regina, David, Mary Margaret, and shockingly, the Mother Superior.Wendy knew that as the Blue Fairy, she and Tink had a sour relationship, so it meant a lot to her that Tink had sought out her help.It wouldn’t have been easy for her.

“Where is he?” David asked.He held his sword in front of him, searching for an enemy that was no longer there.The image was almost comical. 

“He’s gone,” Wendy said, with zero emotion, “I don’t know where.He said to let Felix go.”Surprisingly, she couldn’t bring herself to feel angry or sad anymore.It seemed those feelings had left her after she’d seen him again, because now, she was just numb.Her swirling emotions had disappeared with his departure.Peter Pan was back to doing the things he always did, and she’d grown used to his power in Neverland once.It was very easy to accept that he’d brought his power to a new realm, and they were all subjects to the boy-king.There was no point dreading something that had already occurred, and no point mourning it. 

How on earth had she and Tink thought they could fight him?

“Why is it that you are always left were bad things happen?” Regina demanded.She looked at Wendy suspiciously, and somewhere in her mind, Wendy found it laughable that Regina considered her a threat. 

Had she forgotten about Pan? 

“It’s the nature of being a Neverlander,” Tink explained, “and Wendy is unique, even among us.” 

“How so?” Emma asked.When they’d ventured to Neverland before, Wendy had been a background figure.She could think of little else to distinguish her other than that she had been the only girl on the island, and Tink couldn’t possibly be referencing that.

“Pan is the king of Neverland.Wendy, at one point, was his queen.Not in name, but he regarded her as his all the same.” 

As the group looked at her in shock, Wendy said nothing.She kept her gaze fixed on the trees, certain that Peter was listening.She wondered if Tink’s assertion amused him.Peter Pan had never cared for her- of that she was certain -and he’d never granted her any power.He’d viewed her as a sort of ornament to his reign, one he’d guarded jealously and kept only for himself. 

She was hardly a queen. More of a pretty possession. 

“Then why did he leave her here?” Regina wrinkled her nose.It was true that she herself had ruled a kingdom once, and from her experience, one kept all valuables close by.They were never left for peasants to find. 

“He’ll come back eventually,” Tink replied, “but for now, he’ll let things stay as they are.This is a game to him.We’re all pieces in it, and he’s interested only that it ends in his favor.In the meantime, he likes to see suffering.” She snuck a quick glance at Wendy, but the teenager continued to ignore the entire conversation.She was still watching for Pan. 

Oblivious to this, Mary Margaret walked to Wendy and asked her directly, “Why would he do that?” The former princess literally could not comprehend it.Regina, at least, when she was her enemy, had clear motives and had preferred to act on them immediately.Pan was different, apparently, but she didn’t grasp why. 

“Because he’s Peter Pan,” Wendy stated, “That’s what he does.He plays games and manipulates them so he wins.In the meantime, he watches everyone else fail.He entertains himself.And he sees this as the ultimate revenge, letting you all run around and try to fix it-”

“ _Letting_ us?” Emma asked. The Savior was incredulous.They’d beaten him once.How could he be treating them like marionettes?Wasn’t he afraid of them, even a bit? 

“You’re talking about a boy who defied nature, and now he defied _death_.You really think he can’t control you?” Tink pointed out.She was clearly frustrated, but she couldn’t help but let loose a dejected laugh.Peter Pan had raised himself from the _dead_.He wasn’t exactly a typical enemy. 

“So what are we supposed to do?” Regina said, “Just give into the demands of a teenage serial killer?” She snorted. 

“Right now, I’m afraid those are your only options.Unless you can figure out a brilliant plan to fight him, which Wendy and I were trying to do by ourselves, but-” Tink started, though Mary Margaret quickly interrupted her: 

“What if we work together?That’s what helped last time-” She had such a naive smile on her face the fairy almost pitied her. 

“We can’t,” Wendy said, “Tink and I both know our plan won’t work now, no matter how many people participate.We thought he was just here for murder, but he’s not.”

“What are you saying, Wendy?” David inquired.He narrowed his eyes. 

Wendy gave them all a long look, then announced:“He’s changed the game.” 


	10. Chapter 10

That night, Wendy found herself in bed, staring at the ceiling of her new home.Shortly after their discussion with the Charmings, she and Tink had decided to move to an empty house at the edge of town.Originally, they’d planned to stay with Regina, but they quickly threw that option out after realizing Pan wasn’t just back for revenge.Having two Neverlanders under the same roof with Henry, who possessed the Heart of the Truest Believer, was too dangerous.The adults weren’t particularly thrilled with the teenagers’ decision, but once Wendy had told them that Peter (as of yet) did not want to kill her, they agreed that it was best to keep them away from the other citizens.If Pan were to visit them, they reasoned, at least they wouldn’t be a danger to everyone else. 

She sighed.It was incredibly difficult for her to fall asleep now.Whether it was because her nightmares had started walking around or because she was afraid Peter would show up to talk to her she couldn’t tell.Tink, oddly, had no problem falling asleep.Wendy could hear her soft snores through the door.She envied the fairy’s restful slumber. 

“Trouble sleeping, Bird?” As if summoned by her very thoughts, his words echoed through her room.Wendy rolled over to see Peter alight at her window, then stroll in as if he owned the place.Considering she’d locked the window and it hadn’t done anything to stop him, apparently, he thought he did own the place, and had the right to enter without an invitation. 

She wasn’t surprised by this.In what little method of retaliation she had, she ignored his question.She knew he _hated_ being ignored.There were few things he hated more- with the exception of Hook, and now, most likely her. 

“What?You’re not going to speak to me?How childish! I thought you were all grown up?” he mocked her.He held a hand to his heart. 

“Enough, Peter,” she retorted, “You’re right.I am having trouble sleeping.You coming into my room isn’t exactly helping.”It was making it even worse, actually.She’d been thinking of him, and now she actually had to deal with him.She wondered, idly, if this was going to become a regular habit. 

“It used to,” Peter noted, all traces of cruelty gone, “It still can.”He kept his tone neutral, but Wendy didn’t trust him anymore.He wanted something from her, and while she didn’t know what it was, she didn’t intend to let him have it.

“Why?” she snapped, “So you can just slit my throat in my sleep?”Annoyed, she rolled to her other side.While she wasn’t stupid enough to close her eyes, she didn’t want to stare at his smug face either. 

His footsteps echoed across the floorboards as he approached her bed, then gingerly sat beside her still form.His fingers, barely there, started to stroke her hair.It was an absurdly tender gesture for someone like him.The contradiction was so extreme she almost pinched herself to be certain she _was_ awake. 

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Wendy knew him better than that.He was savage and bloody and had a thirst for vengeance so strong it couldn’t be rivaled by any power on this earth.He had treated her tenderly before only to break her later.He’d drawn blood from her- once -and he’d done it on purpose.She had no doubt he could do it again.Whether he would was another story entirely, but it didn’t change the fact he could.So she challenged him:

“Do I?” 

To her surprise, he immediately acquiesced, “Fine.You have my word.This house is as sacred as your treehouse.None will harm you here, not me, not Felix, not the boys.I always keep my promises.”She resisted the urge to sit up in shock.Her treehouse in Neverland, built for her by Peter when he’d decided she should have some place of her own (according to him), had been a place of amnesty.Nothing could harm her there, not pirates, not Indians, not Tink, nor any island inhabitant.None could even enter without her permission- except for Peter.But even he, in his darkest moments, had never hurt her there.For him to give this house the protection of her treehouse- and technically, Tink gained the protection too, as she shared this house with Wendy -was bizarre.It confused her, and bewildered, couldn’t help but ask: 

“Why are you promising me safety?Why aren’t I dead?”She should be, for all intents and purposes.Peter could have killed her many times over now- at her old apartment (she still had no idea how long he’d been watching her, and knowing him, it could have been from her very first day in Storybrooke), at school, and now here.Even if he had been waiting for her to notice his existence, she knew he was alive now.With his penchant for theatrics, she should have been writhing in a pool of her own blood as he whispered cruel nothings in her ear.Yet she wasn’t.She was laying in her bed, and her would-be- her should-be -murderer was stroking her hair. 

Peter paused for a moment in thought, then said, “You’re the reason I’m still alive.Admittedly, that doesn’t excuse you for letting them try to kill me in the first place, but you paved the way for me to survive,” he shook his head, then taunted her again, “And you never told them, did you?About your little lie?” 

_Little?_ Wendy thought. Lying to the Evil Queen and Rumplestiltskin was hardly a “little lie.”She’d been petrified they would be able to tell and would incinerate her on the spot for aiding Pan.To her amazement, they’d believed her, and the result was sitting next to her. 

Accordingly, Wendy didn’t answer him, and his hands stilled in her hair.He asked, almost viciously: 

“Are you regretting it, Bird?Do you wish you’d let the queen go through with it?”

A long moment of silence passed, fraught with tension.Peter was waiting to hear her agree that she’d wanted him dead, and she was waiting for him to choke her.She wasn’t sure what to say or what to tell him, but finally, she replied: 

“I have so many regrets with you, Peter Pan.”She wasn’t willing to let him, or herself, know the true answer: 

No, she didn’t regret what she’d done.She regretted what _he’d_ done in revenge, but she didn’t regret saving his life.A monster he might have been, and a monster he was, but he was her monster, beneath it all. 

* * *

_Wendy couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she had realized Peter wasn’t all he appeared to be, that beneath his charming and witty exterior there was something terrifying.All she knew was that some days he could be so kind, and other days he was cruel just for the pure pleasure of it.Not usually to her- but to the boys around her.He treated them carelessly, like dolls, as if they too didn’t breathe and feel things just as he did.Though Peter Pan, of course, claimed to feel nothing but bravery and pride, so perhaps it didn’t occur to him there would be other things to feel._

_To her, he continued to put up the endearing and clever front, but she caught him one day when he was unawares.He’d thought she was bathing, but she finished early.While he knew she was on her way back, his attention was focused on something else, so he didn’t realize exactly how close she was.She arrived at the camp just in time to see him holding a crossbow in front of Nibs._

_“No, Peter!You know I can’t shoot it!”the Lost Boy was deathly afraid.He stared at the crossbow as if it were about to light on fire.His eyes darted all about the camp, searching for something- anything-to possibly distract his leader._

_“Nibs, all the other boys can.Even Felix can.You should at least know how,” Rufio said.Peter gave a slight nod of approval to his second, and immediately knowing what Peter was going to do, Rufio started to gather most of the other boys and push them to the edge of the clearing.Most were generally clueless, but they knew enough to listen to Rufio._

_“I can’t!” Nibs insisted, “I won’t!” he pushed the crossbow away, frantic, and Peter’s face darkened with fury._

_“You’ll learn then,” he promised, “Slightly!”He snapped his fingers, and obediently, the Lost Boy came to his side.He was chewing an apple, which Pan retrieved from his fingertips.Then he carefully balanced it on Slightly’s head, and handed Nibs the crossbow._

_“Nibs, you will shoot this apple off of Slightly’s head,” he commanded._

_“What?” Nibs blanched.He looked back and forth from Peter to Slightly.Slightly, to his credit, hadn’t moved a muscle, except to take in a deep breath.He knew that moving anything else was likely to get a worse punishment meted out to him, and he was reluctant to draw Pan’s ire._

_Peter shrugged, “That’s how you will learn.You’ve got one shot.Don’t waste it.”Then he went to stand between Felix and Rufio, incredibly pleased with his strategy._

_“Peter, don’t!” Wendy cried out.She burst into the clearing, desperate to stop what she was certain would be Slightly’s death, and worse, Nibs’ killing of his best friend.Chest heaving, she ran between Slightly and Nibs.Wendy threw her arms out to the side, hoping that her pleas would reach Peter again._

_Peter was silent, and she realized that for the first time, his anger was directed towards_ her. _She’d never been afraid of him before, but she was afraid of him then.He gave barely perceptible looks to Felix and Rufio, and to her shock, the boys immediately ran forward and grasped her arms.She struggled, but they had pinioned her in place._

_“Slightly, the apple,” Peter requested.An apologetic look on his face, Slightly tentatively made his way to Wendy and placed it on her head._

_“Don’t move, Wendy,” Felix warned her, “Not if you want to live.”She wanted to kill him, because from his tone, she could tell he was actually enjoying this.He found her fright amusing.He had the same reaction to rabbits stuck in his traps, and had she not been fighting for her life, she probably would have vomited._

_The apple fell to the ground, and Rufio retrieved it.More kindly than Felix, he told her:_

_“Wendy, you’ll be okay, I promise, but you have to stay still.”Seeing she was unable to do so, he let go of her arms.Felix took over the task of holding both arms, while Rufio crouched down behind her, holding her neck tightly so her head was forced to stay straight._

_Peter, meanwhile, told Nibs, “Watch.”He took the crossbow, met Wendy’s eyes for a second, then let the arrow fly. Wendy screamed.Though she winced, Rufio and Felix held her fast.The arrow sliced neatly through the apple.To prove his point, Petr motioned to Slightly to put another apple on Wendy’s head.Slightly approached the trembling girl and mumbled:_

_“I’m sorry, Wendy-lady.I’m so sorry.”_

_Despite herself, and despite the fact she had come to Neverland with all intentions of being brave, she whimpered as he placed the second apple on her head.She couldn’t bring herself to face Peter a second time.When she heard the arrow whistle through the air, she flinched again, this time hard enough to loosen Rufio’s grip on her. She turned her head a bit to the left, and while the arrow sliced through the apple again, it grazed her head.A thin stream of blood appeared on her hairline._

_At that, Rufio and Felix released her.Softly, Rufio chided her:_

_“You shouldn’t have moved, Wendy.”_

_Pan frowned as she ran to a nearby rock.Logically, she knew that if she ran out of the clearing, he would send boys to retrieve her- he never liked losing his audience -so she remained there.Yet she was horrified by what had just happened to her, and she couldn’t seem to stop herself from shaking._

_Peter went to her and knelt before her.Smirking, he pressed the crossbow against her heart:_

_“Wendy, do you believe I’d shoot you?”_

_“You- you just did!” Wendy managed to gasp out.She had never thought he was capable of such a thing._

_Peter laughed at her terror.He left her there on the rock, then tossed the crossbow to Nibs.Slightly, doing his best to mask his own fear, stepped to the center of the clearing and placed an apple on his head._

_Nibs bit his lip, aimed, then shot._

_Again, Wendy couldn’t help herself.She screamed and covered her eyes._

_But the Lost Boys were clapping.She opened an eye to see the apple in pieces on the ground.Rufio and Felix gave Nibs congratulatory slaps on the back.Nibs himself was catching his breath, still stunned by what he had just done._

_Wendy, meanwhile, just touched her hairline.Her fingertips came away with blood, and she stared at Peter.Then she bolted to her treehouse._

_Peter watched her go, musing over her reaction.Still, he couldn’t help but be pleased with himself a little, because Nibs became the best shot of them all after that day._

_*_

_Later, Peter had come to Wendy’s treehouse.She was sitting before her makeshift dressing table, still trembling.When she looked in her mirror and saw him enter, she’d jumped to her feet, and stumbled back against the wall.He appeared to her in a new light now- not an enchanting creature from the gods, but a secret devil lurking behind a beautiful face.Consequently, she felt threatened by his very presence._

_He stared at her for a full minute.At first, she met his eyes.As the seconds dragged on, though, she looked anywhere but at him.The wall.The floor.The window, through which she could see the palms swaying in the night breeze.Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it slamming in her ribcage, and she thought he surely had to hear it too._

_His voice, went he finally spoke, had none of the malice from earlier that day.Instead, it was steady:_

_“Wendy, come here.”He wasn’t unemotional, exactly, but she couldn’t read him.He said it simply, as if he were telling her the color of the sky.There was no anger, no twisted joy, no condescension.Just three words._

_“No.”_

_That one word was all Wendy had the strength to whisper.No one ever said no to Peter- and when they even attempted it, it was with grievous consequences.That very day Nibs had said no to Peter, and Peter had made him try to shoot his best friend.She dreaded what he would make her do, but she dreaded more what he would do if she went to him._

_Perhaps sensing her reluctance, her fear, Peter approached her warily, as though she was an animal he was hunting.She couldn’t bring herself to move, nor did she even have the opportunity, for by the time she made the decision, he was already standing in front of her.He was tall and imposing and as striking as ever.Unbidden, memories of him saving her over and over again materialized in her traitorous mind- when she first arrived in Neverland, when he taught her to fly, when he pulled her from the lagoon.She wanted to trust him, desperately.She wanted to believe he was the white knight she’d thought he was- a cocky white knight, admittedly, with a dash of arrogance, but with his abilities, didn’t he have a right to be?Still, she reminded herself, that same, supposed white knight had shot a crossbow at her twice.It wasn’t the way knights were to treat their ladies.All the storybooks told her that._

_So what was he?_

_Peter didn’t speak again for a while.He merely drew a cloth from the pouch at his belt, and led her to her bed.Unsure what else to do, she sat down.He busied himself in the corner of her room, filling a bowl with water.As he waved his hand over the bowl, steam began to rise from it.Then, ever so gently, he dipped the cloth in the bowl and started to clean the cut he’d made on her head._

_Wendy’s mouth dropped open.She’d thought he would yell at her for moving; punish her for defying him, perhaps even shoot her again.The last thing she’d expected was for him to come here and tend to her wound.Incredulous, she said:_

_“Peter, why-”_

_“There is a fairy ball tomorrow night,” he cut her off, “Tink said she’d do your hair.Can’t have you bleeding if you’re going to dance at a ball.”_

_As he soothed her reddened scalp, Wendy realized that that was the closest to an apology she would ever get from Peter Pan.He never apologized to anyone, for anything.However, if hewas willing to go to a ball and dance with her (the fairies would never let her go alone; they knew Tink disliked her), and he hated to dance..._

_Maybe he wasn’t a demon after all._

* * *

“Well then, Wendy Darling,” Peter said, “I’ll leave you to think of all your regrets,” Cruelly, he added, “And I want you to know that I have _none_.” As he stood up, Wendy quickly wiped the tear off her cheek.He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d stabbed her.He’d brushed away all the times he’d hurt her and all the times he’d hurt others as if they were nothing.She couldn’t understand it: 

“You killed your friends!” she protested, “Don’t you see how _wrong_ that is?How perverse that is?And you don’t even care!”She threw her sheets aside, then went to him.She searched his gaze, hoping against hope that somehow beneath the wickedness he wore like a second skin there was a trace of a conscience. 

In his eyes, she saw none. Whatever strange fancy that had struck him to grant her some measure of protection in her house was gone.Whatever had prompted him, in his own way, to visit her in the night, had disappeared.There was only fire and blood and hate: 

“I do care,” Peter replied, “I care that they tried to kill me.” 

Then he vanished into the night. 


	11. Kings and Queens

Peter Pan, in his element, stood before Regina in her office.He was resplendent, cocky, and triumphant all at once.He eyed the room like it belonged to him, and his gaze raked over the space as if he was appraising the values of priceless objects she would cede to him, the conqueror. Regina wanted nothing more than to rip his heart out.It was a shame that he was unlike other beings, and that it would not kill him.Too bad Wendy Darling hadn’t known what _would_ kill him. 

“This is what the Evil Queen uses at her throne room now?” Peter scoffed, “I believe you’re missing a throne.”He gestured around the chamber, giving a mocking glance to where she was seated at her desk.Her simple rolling chair was definitely not a throne. 

“I believe you’re wasting my time, Pan,” Regina growled back, “You should have stayed dead.”

“And you should have known,” Pan smirked, “the game wasn’t over.”He met her stony glare for a long second, dancing green eyes staring into angry black.At last, Regina stated: 

“I won’t let you have my son.”Her voice was like ice, and any other human’s blood would have run cold.But Peter merely smiled and shrugged, “You don’t have a choice in the matter, really.But I’ll give you a chance.Let’s make a game of it.”He leaned towards her over the desk. 

“No!” Regina insisted, standing up to face him, “No more games.” At that moment, Emma walked into the room, slamming the doors shut behind her.She strode to the pair, then said:

“Or at least no more games unless the game has an end.”Ensuring that there was an end to the “game”- and that Peter promised one -was the only way Emma felt the clever, stubborn eternal teenager would ever abandon his quest for Henry’s heart. 

Impressed by Emma’s condition, Pan raised an eyebrow, “I knew you would have made a good Lost Girl.”He somehow managed to make it a compliment and an insult simultaneously, and Regina resisted the urge to slap him.Emma managed to keep her expression neutral and waited for his decision.

“Very well,” Pan crossed his arms nonchalantly, “The game can have an end.If you win, I give up Henry forever.If I win...” he trailed off, the implication clear. 

“Absolutely not,” Regina hissed, “I will _not_ let my son be a pawn.”The very thought enraged her.Quickly, she summoned a fireball, then made as if to attack Peter.Amused, Pan merely moved backwards out of her range.Emma, sensing the fragility of the situation, grabbed Regina’s arm.Holding her back, she whispered: 

“Regina, this is the only way out,” then inquired more loudly, “Will you play fair, Pan?”

“I always do.Cheaters never win, as you know, Lost Girl.”Unbelievably, he winked at her.Undoubtedly, he was referencing the time that he had given her a map to find Henry, and Regina had put a spell on it.It hadn’t worked in the Charmings’ favor. 

“So you agree that you won’t ever go after Henry again,” Emma affirmed.

“ _If_ you win,” Peter stipulated. 

“Done,” the Savior said, “Let’s discuss the rules.”She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.The faster she did, she reasoned, the more lives she could save.

Regina, who had no desire to play a “game” with Pan again, protested, “Emma!No!”The outcome of the last time they’d played a game with Pan had nearly cost Henry’s life.She wasn’t willing to just rush into a game she wasn’t sure they could win. 

“What if we don’t play?What then, Pan?” Emma asked.She did this more so Regina could see how dire the situation was than to gather information for herself.Pan, as he knew she would, shrugged; 

“I keep coming back for him until I get him.” 

Emma asserted, “Fine.We’ll play your game.Let’s settle the rules.We’ll pick one, then you, and trade off.We each get three.Agreed?”

Peter, looking deranged and delighted all at once, said, “Agreed. You first, Lost Girl.” 

“You can’t kill anyone,” Emma answered.She was deathly serious.

Peter smirked, “All right.”She was surprised how quickly Pan had agreed, but she was satisfied with his response.That meant no one could die.In the wake of two murders- murders that she now knew had been orchestrated by him -it was the thing she most wanted to hear:the serial killer had sworn off killing.

Completely unfazed by her rule, Peter said, “You get the day; I get the night.From sunrise to sunset, Storybrooke is yours to run and do with as you please. From dusk until dawn, it’s mine-”

“To do what?” Regina narrowed her eyes.Storybrooke was hardly Neverland.It was a sleepy town in the middle of nowhere, cut off from the rest of the world.There was no resemblance between it and a realm where something could come into existence if you only just believed- her curse had deliberately taken them to a land without magic. 

Pan shrugged, “To play, of course.”He gave Regina a brilliant smile.His face was the picture of innocence, but behind the mask she thought he was making fun of her. 

Emma, meanwhile, was confused as well.Regina had already implemented a curfew- all Storybrooke citizens were confined to their homes after nine PM now anyway.And he’d agreed not to hurt or kill anyone.What else was Pan planning on doing?His idea of playing was torture and death, and he couldn’t do that if he’d sworn not to harm anyone. 

“Agreed,” Emma finally said, “No curses.”She was trying to cover all of her bases.Physical safety, set.Now she had to focus on magical. 

Peter laughed, “Why would I curse _you_?Besides, if you really want to feel better, the only magic I have now is the power to fly.”To demonstrate, he floated a few feet off the floor, then gracefully landed before the two women. 

Taking his reply for acceptance of her rule, Emma waited for his, and he demanded, “No locking up the Boys.” 

“Why not?”

“It’s not a game if you get rid of the players,” Pan explained, “Besides, I already told you I won’t kill anyone.What more do you want?” 

“Henry’s safety,” Regina said darkly.She did not trust Pan, nor negotiations with him. 

The boy snickered, “If you play nicely, maybe you’ll get it.” 

Emma racked her mind for any last possibilities.She had one last rule to curtail Peter Pan and whatever his designs were. One last chance to keep the town, its citizens, and most importantly, her son, safe.So it was that she settled on: 

“No kidnapping Henry.” 

Before Emma could say another word, Pan breathed out, “Agreed,” then, eyes dancing, he gave his own final condition: “I want your holdings.” 

“My _what_?” Regina blanched. 

“Your holdings.”

“He means your house,” Emma explained.She stared directly at Pan, and he merely stared back.

“Why would you want my house?” Regina demanded. It seemed a ridiculous request, not when he could forbid them from cursing, imprisoning, or killing _him-_ all things that she was hell-bent on doing. 

Peter replied, his voice charming, “I am the leader of the Lost Boys.They need to live somewhere.I’ve always provided a home for them.Aside from that...I know what a throne room should look like.” 

Before Regina could protest, Emma whispered, “Think of Henry, Regina.He’s worth more than any damn horse statue.”Still, to be sure that this contract would be ironclad, she said, “We’ll write it in blood.Every rule as the requesters said.” 

“As you say, Lost Girl,” Peter gave her a mocking bow. 

Sighing, Regina retrieved a scroll from her desk.She unrolled the parchment, then waved her hand over it.It hovered in the air between Emma and Pan.Confidently, Emma summarized her rules:

“You won’t kill anyone.You won’t curse anyone.You won’t kidnap Henry.”Her voice rang throughout the office. 

“Storybrooke belongs to me from dusk until dawn.No one will imprison the Lost Boys.I get Regina’s holdings.”Peter removed his dagger, then cut his palm.He offered Emma the weapon, and she did the same.Pressing their hands together, they sealed the contract with blood.A bright light flashed around them, and Regina muttered, “It’s done.”She cradled the scroll in her arms, forcing herself not to shudder.The ink, made from the blood of Peter and Emma, oozed shiny and red. 

Somehow, the contract made the Evil Queen herself afraid. 

* * *

 

Wendy and Tink sat on their couch watching the morning news.Each girl was in pajamas.Wendy had a plate of untouched toast on her lap, while Tink had a bowl of cereal.She made an effort to eat it, but her eyes were glued to the screen, so sometimes the spoon never quite made it to her mouth.Regina had called an emergency press conference to alert the citizens of Storybrooke about Peter Pan’s return.She was currently informing them that the curfew was still in effect, but that they had come up with a way to appease Pan and ensure their safety.She encouraged them to go about their lives as normal.Emma, sporting her sheriff’s badge, then took the mic.Sidney Glass fired a barrage of questions at her, and a pensive Wendy pressed the mute button on the remote. 

“Do you believe it?” Wendy asked. 

“Not for a second,” Tink replied, “I believe they _think_ they’ve ensured everyone’s safety, but I know there’s no way they’ve done it,” she swallowed a gulp of cereal, “What do they mean, go about our lives as normal?Do they seriously want us to go to school like nothing is wrong?” 

“Wait, you’re coming back to _school_ now?” Wendy inquired, stunned.Tink had attended school briefly after their arrival in Storybrooke, but she’d dropped out in two weeks or so.Noone had bothered forcing the fairy to go back, and as far as Wendy knew, Tink had had zero interest in doing so. 

“I have to,” Tink shrugged, “It’s not like you’re going to drop out, and neither of us can be alone anymore.Even if Pan doesn’t want to hurt you-”

“He never said he wouldn’t hurt you,” Wendy finished her statement softly.Hurriedly, the fairy looked away.She flushed a bit, almost ashamed.Tink thought that to Wendy, it would seem like she was using her to ensure her own safety.Although it was true that being in Wendy’s presence would probably make Tink safer than leaving her alone, Wendy didn’t begrudge Tink for it.She understood the desire to live in spite of horrific circumstances.She understood the desperation that clawed at your heart. 

“Tink, it’s okay,” Wendy said, “Don’t worry about it.”She gave a small smile to the fairy, which Tink reluctantly returned.She didn’t like being indebted to Wendy Darling.She wasn’t sure if they were friends yet- more like allies -and they had never been friends in Neverland.Even if Wendy was gracious enough to let the past go, Tink still felt a bit awkward. 

Just then, Wendy’s cell phone beeped.The screen lit up, indicating she had a text message.Wendy reached for the phone, then read the message: 

 

FERDINAND:So...am I ever getting an answer about the dance? 

 

_The dance!_ Wendy had completely forgotten in the chaos of Peter Pan’s arrival.Her life in Neverland had crashed into her life in Storybrooke, and already Pan was superseding everything.She sighed.Apparently, Ferdinand was taking the directions to “go about your lives as normal” to heart.That meant double-checking he had a date to the Halloween dance. 

Wendy Darling had never been normal, and so she wasn’t quite sure how to react to this.Gwen would have said yes.Gwen would have immediately texted Gretel and Grace, this time to go shopping for _her_ costume. 

But Wendy Darling had never worn a costume, and the only dresses she ever wore to dances had been picked out by someone else. 

* * *

_The first thing Peter thought, upon seeing Wendy, was that Tink had done a fine job with her hair.Wendy’s hair, such a lovely combination of honey gold and lightest brunette, was done up in curls in an elaborate bun.It wasn’t like Peter Pan to note things that were pretty, but he noticed, in that moment, that Wendy Darling was pretty._

_He wasn’t quite sure what that meant about himself or what to do about it._

_Wendy herself was currently admiring Tink’s dress.Tink sported a green gown made out of interwoven leaves.She too had her hair in a high bun, but pink flowers were braided into it.They matched the pink flowers that encircled her waist, cinching the dress in, and emphasizing the fairy’s tiny figure._

_“Tinkerbell!” Wendy gushed, “You look lovely!”The fairy barely gave her a glance.Instead, she gave a snort of disdain, then went about adjusting some of the flower petals on her gown.She disliked Wendy as a rule- there had never been a girl on the island, before her (she felt Tiger Lily didn’t count), and she hadn’t liked giving up her special status. While she disliked Wendy, though, she_ hated _that Peter was bringing her to a fairy ball.Worse, he was bringing her in a muddied nightgown, and Wendy, being the stupid girl that she was, would talk to Tink all night, desperate for information about the fairies.Peter knew about fairy society, of course, but he wasn’t a fairy, and Wendy would want to hear all about fairies from a_ real _fairy.Tink was embarrassed at the thought of being seen next to her._

_Wendy was oblivious to Tink’s contempt, but she stared at Tink’s dress with unabashed admiration- and, if Peter was seeing things correctly, a bit of sadness.She wasn’t jealous- it wasn’t like Wendy to be jealous -but she certainly felt second best in her nightgown._

_Peter would not allow for second best.Second best was simply not something he did._

_So with a barely perceptible flick of the hand, he gave Wendy Darling a ball gown.He pulled the image straight from her dreams, though he did add a dash of Neverland magic and his own imagination to make the dress truly special.It was made of finest white silk, with layers of organza and tulle forming the skirt.There were the smallest flecks of gold- Peter’s idea- embedded in the top layer of the fabric, so that when Wendy moved, she seemed to emanate light herself.Shocked and in awe, Wendy gasped:_

_“Oh, Peter!” She threw her arms around him, and he stumbled back from her embrace.Giddy like the child she was, she ran before her mirror.She spun around, and the tulle flew up into the air around her as she giggled with delight.Peter raised an eyebrow.He’d had no idea this would make her this happy. She was_ ridiculous, _really.So excited over a pretty gown.Such a_ girl _-_

_Though Peter scoffed at the concept, and though he was not very fond of girls, he also knew that there was something missing from her ensemble that every girl dreamed of. He sighed, and again, he flicked his hand.At once, a golden tiara settled itself among the curls on Wendy’s head._

_Abruptly, Wendy stopped spinning.Her dainty mouth open in a slight o, she raised a hand to the tiara.It was made of solid gold, and woven with a pattern of intricate flowers.It was delicate and lovely and yet seemed so important, somehow, though if anyone asked her, she could not state why._

_At the sight, now Tink was the one who gasped.She whirled to face Peter, her face angry and red:_

_“Titania won’t be happy!”_

_Peter shrugged, and an irate Tink added, “Peter, she’s the_ queen-”

_Peter retorted, darkly, “There are no queens in Neverland.There are no kings in Neverland.There is just me.”It was a battle of wills, for a moment, with Tink and Peter staring each other down.Yet Tink knew in her heart that the island was Peter’s, and the island would never fight for her._

_Besides, Wendy added, “Oh, I would never want to offend the queen!I’m just a guest, after all.”Quickly, she removed the tiara and set it on her dresser.She looked at it reluctantly for an instant, but then smiled at Peter once more._

_“Are you sure, Wendy?” he inquired.Knowing he had won, he moved away from Tink, “You can wear the crown.”He would never share his throne, ever.But for one night, if Wendy Darling wanted to be a princess, he would permit her that.After all, he’d shot her.And while Peter Pan was never one to feel guilty, or to feel regret, he did have a concept of payment.He had terrorized her yesterday, and she’d let him come into her treehouse and treat her wound.She hadn’t demanded to be returned home.She’d impressed him in that way, and so he would grant her this._

_“Yes, Peter,” she affirmed, “I’m sure.I’m not a queen anyway.I’ve never even been good at playing one.”Still, she slipped her hand into his arm, and despite every instinct in him screaming at him not to go with her, they set off for a fairy ball, a grumbling Tink stomping along behind them._

* * *

_Hours passed by, but to Wendy, they seemed like only seconds.She’d entered on Peter’s arm, and endured the fairies’ scrutiny.Their faces scrunched up at first in scorn- what a silly human; who could ever come to their festivities but Peter? -but when they continued to look, their eyes grew wide with wonder.Wendy was innocent and pure and so very happy.Her dress glowed, and so did she.Curiously enough, so did the boy beside her.He sat back and watched for a while as she chattered to Tink and the other fairies.Crossing his arms, he couldn’t believe that the Bird found this_ entertaining _.He’d always found balls to be so droll.A lot of talking and cozying up to a “king” and “queen”- he used the terms loosely, and only in his head, for Oberon and Titania were in Neverland only by his permission -with occasional dancing.And Peter did not like to dance.Why should he dance when he could play and hunt and fight pirates?_

_Wendy, however, had no such qualms.She spun and talked and was so merry that Oberon himself requested a dance with her, to which the eager Bird had immediately agreed.The fairy king smiled as he took Wendy’s arms and waltzed with her around the clearing.The girl blushed prettily as he lead her into an elegant turn._

_At this, Peter frowned.Why was the Bird smiling at Oberon like that?Why wasn’t she smiling at_ him? _Peter had saved her from drowning- twice.Peter had taught her to fly.Was that nothing in comparison to a mere dance?_

_Oberon pulled Wendy in closer, and Peter’s blood boiled.He had no idea why, but he suddenly was enraged that Oberon dared to touch Wendy like that.Didn’t the king know that Wendy was Peter’s?Didn’t he know that the Bird came here with_ him _?How dare Oberon hold her close like that!How dare Wendy smile at him like that!_

_For once, Peter was upset that he didn’t know how to dance.He stood there in an angry silence for a few minutes- Wendy waltzing all the while, this time with a fairy nobleman, as Oberon had returned to his wife -before he came to one conclusion:_

_Maybe Peter Pan did not know how to dance, but Peter Pan knew how to fly, and unlike any fairy, he knew how to fly without wings._

_When the song ended, the fairies politely clapped.Peter strode towards Wendy, then grabbed her hand:_

_“Come with me.”At first, she was surprised and a bit saddened to be taken out of the clearing.When she realized they weren’t coming back to the ball, she was even more disappointed.She’d been having such fun!If Neverland was supposed to be a place of eternal fun, why had Peter taken her away from it?_

_“Why are we leaving?” Wendy asked.She sounded crestfallen, much to Peter’s displeasure.Lips set in a straight line, he continued to lead her to the Neverland shoreline.The waves lapped gently against the sand, and a mild breeze- warm as always -rustled her hair.A few curls fell from the elegant bun Tink had spent ages creating._

_“Because I wanted to come here,” Peter said finally, “where the sky’s open.”The boy and girl gazed upwards, and true to Peter’s word, the sky was a velvet black.Stars were spangled all over it, twinkling brightly in incandescent patterns that changed with every whim of Peter’s.Wendy was still staring at the stars- if she wasn’t mistaken, they’d started to move -when she felt Peter take his hands gently in his own.Her eyes flicked to him, and then she gasped.They were rising into the air, slowly, and Wendy swallowed the lump in her throat as Peter pulled her to him, just as Oberon had done.He wrapped one hand around her waist, careful not to yank on her dress, then used the other to cradle hers.Then, slowly, they started to rotate._

Was Peter Pan waltzing with her? _Wendy could barely comprehend the thought.The boy was maddening and so confusing.He pulled her from waves, then shot her and laughed at her fear.Now he was dancing with her in the sky._

_While Wendy Darling could not even begin to say what she knew of Peter Pan, if she could say anything of him at all, she could say that he fascinated her.There was an aura about him that pulled her in, helpless as one of Hook’s crew was to the siren song of the mermaids.He was dark and light and everything in between, and gradually, she was learning she wanted to lose herself in him._

_The day would come when she would, but for now, there was only him and her spinning in the sky above Neverland, surrounded by the stars that moved and twinkled with them._

* * *

Later that day, Wendy retrieved her books from her locker.Tink stood by her side, carrying a backpack.Although Tink had yet to officially reenroll- or buy any new books - she simply decided to attend all of the classes she had previously been in at the beginning of the year.She shared each of them with Wendy, and they were both headed for math.Wendy carried the homework she’d attempted (and failed) to do the other day, while Tink didn’t even bother with the coursework.The two girls walked calmly into the classroom as if nothing was amiss.Wendy sat into her usual seat, and Tink slid into the seat of the desk next to her.An irate Grace, seeing that her spot had been stolen, demanded: 

“What do you think _you’re_ doing?” 

“Going back to school,” Tink replied.She paid as much attention to Grace as she would a fruit fly.Zipping open her backpack, she unloaded a few of her school supplies.

“You’re in my seat,” Grace said coldly.Her face began to turn red.She couldn’t fathom how Tink thought she could just weasel her way into Grace’s life. _She_ was Gwen’s best friend, not the high school dropout. 

“You should find a new one,” Tink deadpanned.She crossed her legs elegantly, then placed her new notebook on the desk.She totally ignored Grace, who huffed, then walked across the room.Grace shot a hurt glance back at Wendy, who hid her face in her hands. 

“I’ve got to say something to her,” she said.She felt terribly guilty about everything that had happened over the past few days.Despite the craziness of what was going on, Grace had always been kind to her from the first day she arrived in Storybrooke.She truly was her friend, and it bothered her to see Grace so upset.

“Do you want her to die?” Tink asked, point blank.This wasn’t just a school in Storybrooke anymore, filled with fairytale characters in a new life.They had to think on Neverland terms now, with the stakes equally as high.Hurt feelings were nothing in comparison to death. 

“No,” Wendy admitted.She’d come to care for Grace, although she’d realized Grace could never understand who she was as Wendy.As Gwen, yes, but as Wendy, no.Most people couldn’t.

“Then don’t talk to her.If you show interest in anyone, then Pan will be interested in them, and we don’t want anyone else to attract his attention-”

“Pan’s interested in everything,” a familiar voice drawled.Wendy whipped around in shock to see Felix lazily strolling into class, then taking the seat directly behind Tink.For once, even the fairy was dumbstruck.Felix smirked at their reactions. 

“What are you doing here?” Wendy asked, completely flabbergasted, “You were in _jail-_ ” 

“And now I’m out,” Felix shrugged, “You were right, Wendy.I didn’t kill the Twins.Pan reminded the sheriff you’d pointed it out to her, and now I’m free to go.”He said this as though it was the most casual thing in the world. 

“You mean he commanded Emma to release you,” Wendy said.As she considered the implications of that, her blood ran cold.Extremely worried, she asked:

“What else did he request?” 

Felix’s smirked and lounged back in his chair, “Pan doesn’t _request_ anything.People obey the king.” 

“He isn’t the king here,” Tinkretorted, at last finding her voice.She stared Felix down.

At her interruption, Felix’s smile disappeared.He picked up his pencil, then cocked his head, “Isn’t he?”The two words hung in the air, fraught with unspoken meaning. 

Tink’s face drained of color, “What did he do?Oh my God, Wendy!On the news they said they’d found a way to ‘appease’ him.You can’t just ‘appease’ Peter Pan.He doesn’t stop playing-”

“He made a game with them,” Wendy whispered, “and this morning they must have set the rules.Felix, what did they say? What did Pan _say_?” 

In response to her question, Felix’s grin returned and he asked, “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” 

Wendy turned around and her heart sank.There, in the doorway of her classroom, stood Peter Pan, arms crossed and with a smirk on his face.


	12. He's a Bloody Demon

For a few seconds, Wendy didn’t know what to do.Her nightmares- while graphic and brutal -had never featured _this._ She had never considered Peter Pan in Storybrooke, or at least not looking so smug about being in _high school_ , of all places.He simply did not belong there, and the juxtaposition caused by his presence unnerved her.The figures of the other students and the furniture in the classroom blurred in comparison to him.He was the only clear image in her vision.

“But- you- but,” she couldn’t even form words properly.Her mouth opened and shut like a fish dragged from the water, the syllables she tried to speak disappearing into the air. Pan strode across the room, utterly disregarding the stunned looks he was receiving from the other students.Catlike, he leaned across her desk:

“Hello, Wendy-bird.” 

“Peter,” she whispered, “What are you doing here?” 

“Seeing you, of course,” Peter replied.He smirked at her, and she wanted to vomit. The other students pointed and whispered.He was so out of place amongst them, proudly wearing his outfit of leather and stitched green leaves, but being Peter, he was oblivious to the fact that he didn’t belong.He acted as though he were attired in the magnificent silks of a king, but then again, he always had. His dagger was still firmly in its hilt at his waist, the silver winking in the fluorescent light of the classroom.She blinked a bit, then stared at her lap, fully expecting to see her khaki skirt and tights morph into her familiar, tattered, white nightgown.They were back in Neverland, after all, weren’t they?

Weren’t they? 

Suddenly, she felt very, very dizzy.

“Wendy,” Tink said, alarmed, “Wendy!”She reached out and touched Wendy’s arm.For the first time, Peter realized that something was wrong with her.He stood back, his eyes raking over the Bird’s form, as he had many times before.She had no visible injuries, no cuts, no bruises.No bones were jutting out at weird angles.She wasn’t coughing. 

What was wrong with her? 

Peter thought he’d said the question silently, but he was pushed aside by Tink.Simultaneously angry at him (which was not a surprise to him; Tink had never been happy with him since before he’d exiled her) and concerned for Wendy, she knelt next to her desk. Fiercely, she whispered: 

“She’s in shock.Wendy, you’re not in Neverland anymore.We’re in Storybrooke-” The fairy brushed a strand of hair out of Wendy’s face, which had gone deathly pale, and continued to murmur supplications to draw her back to reality.It failed, and Wendy blinked slowly, then struggled to stand.Her footsteps were incredibly unsteady, but that didn’t matter, she told herself.She _had_ to get away from Peter.She wouldn’t let him mock her, not again.She had to run- she had to go- but he would chase her through the forest, so she needed to go quickly.She might only get a few moments respite from his cutting words and dancing green eyes, but she had to try, she had to run- 

She made it two paces before she fainted, her body crumpling to the linoleum floor.

Peter immediately lunged forward and caught her.Her hair tangled in the leather cuffs he wore about his wrists. 

“Bird, I’m here now,” he muttered.From anyone else, it would have sounded like comfort, but from him, it sounded like a dangerous reassurance:yes, Peter Pan _was_ in Storybrooke.He was no longer in Neverland, and while Wendy had subconsciously known he had entered her world here, she hadn’t quite grasped the extent of his entrance until he walked into her classroom.But she needed to accept it, and in time, Peter knew she would. 

For now, though...

Peter gathered her into his arms.He cast a glance at Felix, who informed him: 

“We should go to the nurse’s office.” As usual, his second had understood what he wanted without words.Heeding his advice- as much as Peter did not like to be unaware of what to do, Felix _had_ been Storybrooke longer -Peter walked towards the classroom door.Again, hepaid no heed to the students. 

“Gwen!” 

Peter raised one eyebrow at the young man who rushed towards them.He was tall, with rather unremarkable black hair and brown eyes.Peter, who had an eye for such things, knew he would have made a terrible Lost Boy.This one, whoever he was, lacked true fire- Peter’s smallest Lost Boy would have gutted him in three seconds if they were to fight.He was unabashedly ordinary, and Peter despised the ordinary. 

“Her name is Wendy,” he practically snarled at the trespasser (he was not a Neverlander, and therefore, he had no stake in the situation). 

The boy’s face grew red with anger, “Her name, as she’s told everyone here, is _Gwen._ She’s always told me that-”

“Yes,” Felix drawled, “because you weren’t worthy to hear otherwise.”Pan’s deputy had come to stand behind him, waiting for his orders.He may have been clad in a brown sweatshirt instead of his canvas hood, but he was still Pan’s most loyal follower.That meant his place was with Pan- unless Pan commanded differently. 

Tink, who awkwardly stood next to the Lost Boy, urged the non-Neverlander plaintively, “Ferdinand, don’t provoke him-” She clutched Wendy’s schoolbooks (her excuse for joining Peter and Felix) to her chest like a shield. 

Ferdinand, who as a prince, thought himself courageous, entirely flouted her warning.He strutted up to Peter and asked: 

“Why not?Who does he think he is?” 

In that moment, Tink thought he was the stupidest boy who’d ever lived.He _had_ to know.Who else would be standing in an outfit of stitched leaves carrying _Wendy Darling in his arms?_

But Peter sneered at Ferdinand: 

“Oh, did I forget to introduce myself?” he taunted the foolish prince who’d dared to challenge a king, “I’m Peter.Peter Pan.” 

With that, he departed the classroom.Felix gestured for Tink to go first.The fairy cast a worried look backwards, but the Lost Boy glared at her.Her face coloring, she hurried after Peter. 

Ferdinand made to go with them, but Felix blocked his exit.He pulled his switchblade, flicking it open: 

“Don’t cross Pan.”His voice was deadly. 

“Or what?” Ferdinand demanded.

Felix smiled, “He’ll give you a scar to match mine.” 

* * *

_Wendy Darling hadn’t realized the implications of Peter Pan attending the fairy ball with her.She knew how it affected_ her, _of course.She blushed every time she was in his presence, and found herself trying to sneak little touches or secret looks with him.Most of the Boys with the exception of Felix, didn’t notice.The older boy would stare pensively at Peter and Wendy, while Tink rolled her eyes.Peter, though, acted as if nothing had changed._

_But everything had, and not just between them._

_The night that Wendy Darling and Peter Pan had danced among the stars, Captain Killian Jones, cruelly nicknamed “Captain Hook,” by Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, had been standing on the deck of the Jolly Roger.It had become his habit to do this, every few nights.He was trying to track the stars and find a way out of Neverland.The constellations here did not match the ones he had been taught, and while he understood that, it didn’t stop him from trying.Aside from that, he knew, deep in his heart, that no one could get off the island without Pan’s permission.He had no leverage against Peter Pan.The boy simply did not want anything Hook could offer._

_That was, until the night Hook spied Peter and Wendy.He’d been unaware of her presence in Neverland before.Peter Pan never sent his Shadow to find girls, and Tinkerbell spent her time divided between the Lost Boys and the fairy folk.The Indians, who mostly kept to the part of the island designated as theirs by Peter, did not mingle with the Lost Boys, except in battle, when the Boys grew bored with fighting the pirates and wanted a different distraction._

_Wendy was truly the_ **only** _girl to have walked on Neverland’s soil.She was the only girl- the only person -to have danced with Peter Pan.The very notion of Pan_ **dancing** _did not sit well with Hook.It did not match anything he knew of him.Pan enjoyed the sinister and cruel; hunting and fighting and occasionally, killing._

_Dancing?That was an activity far too soft for him._

_But if Pan deigned to dance with the girl, Hook reasoned she had to mean something to Pan._

_And so he decided that Wendy would be his leverage._

_It was almost too easy to get the girl, really.Since the ball, Wendy spent an inordinate amount of time on the shoreline.Hook was a romantic, and he assumed that she was probably daydreaming and reliving the night that Peter and she had danced.Though the girl could see the Jolly Roger, she was untroubled by it.As Hook had never seen her, she had never seen him- Pan had never let her fight with the Boys, so she’d never met the pirates.She knew they existed, of course, but she also knew the Boys won almost every battle against them.They weren’t a threat to her.Thus she felt utterly comfortable collecting shells on the beach as the ship lolled gently in the distance._

_Thus his two men were able to kidnap her without her even having the chance to scream._

_When she was brought aboard, they brought her to his chambers.He didn’t risk Wendy yelling- not yet -but while he was a pirate, he was also a gentleman, and he wanted Wendy to understand that they would not harm her._

_Hook gestured for the trembling girl to take a seat, and she sank into the oak chair across from him at his dining table.He took a gold goblet, and inquired:_

_“Rum or whiskey?”_

_Wendy’s blue eyes widened.She stammered: “I’m- I’m just a little girl!”She kept glancing from Hook to the goblet and back again, utterly terrified.She couldn’t find it in herself to scream, for Hook hadn’t done anything she’d expected him to do.Peter and the Boys had emphasized that the pirates were a bloodthirsty lot, and that they did the island good by keeping the pirates at bay.She’d believed Hook would try to kill her, not sit her down and offer her a drink._

_Hook replied, “You must not have been on the island long then.”He shrugged, and poured the tiniest bit of whiskey into her cup._

_Wendy edged back in her chair, squirming, “I don’t know how long I’ve been here-”_

_The pirate laughed, “If you still think of yourself as a child, lass, I can assure you, it’s not that long.In time though, you won’t think of yourself as a child.You’ll be a grown woman trapped in a girl’s body, and then, you’ll acquire a taste for whiskey.”_

_Wendy’s gaze flicked down to the goblet for a second, then she pushed it away.Haughtily, she affirmed:_

_“_ **That** _will never happen.”_

_“I hope it doesn’t,” Hook said earnestly, “I hope we both get off this godforsaken island before then.”His voice was bitter, and Wendy swallowed the snobby retort that she’d been preparing to say.She had always been empathetic to the feelings of others, and she was shocked to discover that Hook was sad- though he’d probably never admit that.Still, she probed:_

_“Wait, you want to leave?Leave Neverland?”She couldn’t imagine such a thing.It was the place children visited in their dreams.It was place she had always wanted to visit for real.And now that she had, she admitted it was a bit more wild than she had first thought, but it was still incredible.How could anyone want to leave?_

_“That’s what I’ve always wanted, lass.Neverland has never been kind to me.It’s not a kind place, and neither are the people in it.”Hook took a swig from a bottle- rum was apparently his drink of choice.And though he was enough of a gentleman to offer a goblet to a lady, he clearly did not need such niceties for himself.He didn’t meet her eyes, and instead focused on a small spot on the wall.He wasn’t thinking much of her, anymore, she realized._

_Wendy was nothing if not curious, so she asked, “What do you mean?Neverland’s wonderful-”_

_“It starts out that way, lass.It’s a land of dreams and opportunities, but then the dreams reveal themselves to be nightmares and the opportunities to be traps,” Hook stated flatly.He said this as a fact, and though she did not know it, he had many years of experience with the subject. Still, she picked up on his tone._

_“I’m sure that’s not true,” Wendy said, “Peter rules Neverland-”_

_“Exactly,” Hook answered, turning to her again, “I know you care for him, girl, but you should know that he may look like a boy, but he’s a bloody demon.”_

_“Peter Pan is_ **not** _a demon!” she insisted._

_Hook, face filled with pity, said, “I give you a few hours before you stop believing that.”_

_“I will_ **never** _stop believing in Peter!” Wendy said fiercely.She’d promised Peter that, and it was true.She would never stop believing in him.He’d always been there for her.He’d always saved her.He promised to always catch her.She believed every word with every fiber of her being._

_“I never said you’d stop believing, just that you’d stop believing he was good.”_

_Angry now, and certain she now understood Hook’s intentions, Wendy demanded,“And you plan to force me to do that?”He_ **was** _as evil as everyone said!Corrupting her belief in Peter!_

_“I plan to let him_ **show** _you that,” Hook explained, “You see, I want to leave this island.”He stood and began to pace around the cabin.Every so often, he glanced out the window.To his satisfaction, and a bit to his nervousness, he noticed that the normally white, fluffy clouds had become gray._

_The island, and Peter, knew something was amiss.It wouldn’t be long now.Hook took another drink._

_Oblivious to this, Wendy asked,“Why?” He hadn’t given her a real answer before, just a vague allusion to his history.Wendy was a storyteller, and she wanted the details to Hook’s story- not just fragments and pieces to create a haphazard puzzle._

_“If you really want to know, lass, someone killed my true love a long time ago.That man still walks free.I want to kill him,” Hook said the words plainly, without relish or hatred.He didn’t seem excited by the prospect of death, just that he_ **needed** _it to occur.Like most needed water, Hook needed this man to die._

_Wendy knew that murder was bad.She knew she should detest Hook for wanting such a thing, and that she should applaud Peter for keeping him in Neverland to prevent another man’s death (for she was sure that was the only reason Peter kept Hook here).Yet as she watched Hook drink, morose and depressed, she couldn’t help but be filled with a burst of pity for him.She wanted true love herself, someday, and if someone ever tried to take it from her...she would do anything to stop it.If someone succeeded, perhaps she might want to kill them too._

_She hoped she was never put in that position._

_“I’m sorry,” Wendy said softly.Her blue eyes, much to Hook’s surprise, were actually brimming with tears.The girl truly pitied him and his predicament.At that, he understood why Pan was at least, somewhat intrigued by her- Wendy had a heart great enough to care for those who had no hearts at all.And if Hook had a dark heart, Peter’s was surely darker- probably the darkest heart that ever beat._

_When had anyone ever cared for Peter Pan?Not feared him- many feared him -but_ **cared** _for him?_

_Hook supposed it was probably never, though he was hardly about to risk his life to ask Pan._

_“I’ll talk to him for you,” Wendy offered, “I’m sure I can get him to let you go.”She smiled hopefully at him, and Hook envied her naivete.He also hated himself as he was going to steal it from her._

_“Pan doesn’t do talking, lass.Pan does exchanges.I’m going to give him you so that he will give me freedom.”Somehow, Hook felt the need to explain this to her.It came out sounding almost like an apology.In the few minutes he’d spent with her, he’d come to like Wendy, and he wanted her to understand not only his motivations, but his actions.He wouldn’t hurt her- it had never been about that.She was merely part of the exchange._

_Just then, the sky grew black.Lightning flashed in the sky, and the sound of thunder rumbled through the Jolly Roger.The waves tripled in size and force, slamming against the ship and making it roll violently from side to side._

_“Captain!” his first mate burst through the door, “He’s here!”The man was panting and terrified.He struggled to hang onto the wall in the fury of the storm.Wendy shrieked as she toppled out of the chair, and Hook grabbed her before she could go smashing through the window into the sea.He held her flush against him, then forced his way past the man onto the deck._

_“Hurry,” Hook hissed, “Tie her to the mast.It’s the only way to keep him from sinking the ship!”Wendy blanched, and meant to say all manner of horrible things to him, but Hook merely offered her a bow._

_“My apologies, love,” the pirate said, “but rest assured, you won’t be hurt and you will survive this.However, you’re the key for_ **us** _to survive.”Before Wendy could say another word, his first mate hustled her off.Rapidly, he tied her to the mast.Wendy, seeing just how big the waves were- and hearing the cracking of the wood in the ship -screamed._

_“Peter!PETER!” she yelled his name until her throat burned.Tears slid down her cheeks, but he must have heard her, for suddenly, the waves stopped.The thunder and rain continued, but oddly, ominously, the ocean was calm.The contradiction was eerie, and she couldn’t help but shiver, even in her bonds. Then, Peter’s voice rang out:_

_“You took something of mine.Dangerous mistake, Captain,” he warned as he materialized out of the shadows, “Fatal one.”To emphasize his point, he casually stabbed the closest pirate who had the misfortune to be near him.The poor man gurgled as blood bubbled up in his throat, choking on his own life’s essence before falling to the ground, dead.There was a brief moment of quiet as they all watched him die.Peter was smiling with satisfaction- the cut he’d made would inflict death with utmost pain.Hook grimaced, forcing the guilt down.Wendy’s tears flowed faster._

_Once the man’s grunts of pain ended, Hook swallowed:_

_“No need for that, Pan.I haven’t harmed the lass, and you can gladly have her back.I just want to negotiate first.”He gestured to a red-faced Wendy, who was determined not to let any more tears fall.Nevertheless, Peter saw her red-rimmed eyes and how she was still shaking, though the ropes were tied forcefully around her.It infuriated him._

_“What do you want?”_

_“Free passage out of Neverland for me and my crew.I want vengeance against my Crocodile, and I can’t get that here,” Hook answered immediately.This was the moment.This was his one chance to leave, and he prayed to God that the devil-boy took the bait.If he didn’t..._

_Amused now, Peter said, “I’ve told you, Hook.We’re business partners.Your pirates amuse my boys and in return I let you live.It’s an even trade.”He laughed, and the Lost Boys, who had followed him- as they always followed him -onto the ship, laughed with him._

_“Life and death isn’t something to be traded,” Hook said seriously, and Wendy, even in her state, couldn’t help but agree with him._

_“In Neverland, where no one ever dies of old age, of course it is.Now you will give me back Wendy, or find_ **all** _of your crew slaughtered.And perhaps you’ll be missing a second hand,” Peter promised.His eyes glittered, and so Hook could understand the seriousness of his threat, he waved the Boys forward.Each Lost Boy positioned himself next to a pirate, weapon poised to strike.The pirates moved their hands to their swords, but Hook commanded:_

_“Hold!”_

_Obediently, the pirates did not touch their blades, but they kept their hands as close to the sheaths as they could.The Lost Boys, meanwhile, sported feral grins.Quite a few snickered at the pirates’ predicament. Wendy barely recognized them.The very same Boys who sat and listened to her stories and called her Mother, bringing her gifts and clamoring for attention, now looked like wild animals.They were wolves circling about their prey, waiting to play with it as it cried out its pain._

_It frightened her._

_Hook made the fatal decision to try one last time, “Pan, let us leave.Let us go, and I’ll let you have the lass back.”He walked slightly towards Wendy, and began to unsheath his sword.He would never have actually hurt her, of course.He was just betting that this final threat would be enough to get Pan to give in._

_In retrospect, Hook would say that given all his years in Neverland, he really should have known better._

_“_ **Let** _me have her back?” Peter hissed like a cat.His eyes narrowed into slits, “Wendy is_ **mine** , _Hook.I will take her back.I was going to give you the chance to keep your crew alive- but you made that choice for me-”_

_“Pan, wait-” Hook began, but it was far too late._

_“Come on, Boys!” Peter hollered.He brushed the blood off his dagger, then declared, his smile utterly maniacal, “Let’s play!”_

_Wendy shut her eyes after that._

_True to his word, Peter painted the planks of the Jolly Roger red with the blood of its crew.The Lost Boys helped, of course- most had grown to care for “Mother” and were displeased at her capture.Felix, while not fond of Wendy at all, was particularly effective at- and greatly enjoyed -bashing pirates’ skulls in.Blood mixed into the wood and bits of bone flew through the air.Though Wendy kept her eyes closed- Rufio yelling to her all the while it would be okay; she just needed to not to look for a few minutes more -Peter’s triumphant crowing rang into her ears.It mixed with the death shrieks of pirates and the cries of injured boys.She wished she could block her ears too, but her hands were tied far too tightly behind her back.So she squeezed her eyes shut even harder, ignoring the blood splashing onto her face and trying desperately to ignore the sound of metal slicing into flesh.She couldn’t understand how the boy mercilessly murdering an entire crew of pirates was the same boy who’d held her so tenderly the other night.It was as if they were two different souls slammed into the same body, and that body called himself Peter Pan._

_Hook, beside her, murmured, “Now you see what I mean, lass.He may look like a boy, but he’s a bloody demon.Be careful.” He dragged his sword, streaked with the blood of Lost Boys, behind him, but he’d apparently despaired on wielding it any longer.Although Wendy never wanted the Lost Boys to be wounded, she was aghast that Hook had given up so easily._

_“Aren’t you going to defend them?” she asked accusingly.These men had been loyal to Hook, and had apparently been for many years.They deserved better than Hook just standing aside while they were killed in cold blood._

_“I know when a battle’s lost,” Hook told her, “and this one has been lost many times over.My crew are all dying or dead already.The reason that I’m still standing is because Pan wouldn’t ever kill me.I provide too much amusement for him.And he wants me to see this.He wants me to remember that I’m always in his power. You should be careful to remember that you are too, and leave Neverland while you still can.”_

* * *

Peter couldn’t stand watching Wendy in the nurse’s office.They didn’t seem to care that the Bird was unconscious.They simply covered her with a blanket and told him she would wake up in a few minutes.Then they kicked him out, and as Peter had promised that Storybrooke belonged to the Evil Queen and the Savior in the daytime, he had to follow their rules- and the nurse’s rules, by extension, and so he had to wait.Peter Pan never waited, and normally, he would have healed her himself.However, he could hardly force her to awaken with magic- not without alerting the Evil Queen and the Savior -that he’d lied to them. They’d been duped so easily, though he’d expected that.Still, it was to his advantage that they remained clueless of his true powers, and since both Felix and Tink had assured him the nurse was a reliable source of medical treatment, he’d sucked in his anger and left.He would do other things until the Bird woke up.Tink, who for reasons Peter didn’t understand- the fairy had never once been friendly to Wendy -was genuinely concerned for her. Stubbornly, she informed the nurse she would wait outside.Pan wasn’t quite sure what to make of the fairy’s newfound affection for Wendy, but he trusted Felix, so he left his second to stand guard outside the door while he went to seek out certain Lost Boys. 

Peter wandered around the school, loitering in doorways as those bizarre, piercing bells clanged.The sound was shrill in his ears, annoying and frantic.Students rushed into the hallway at their peals, as if summoned by a supernatural force.They were clamoring and opening lockers, running with books about, scrambling to get to some other location. 

It hardly seemed _fun._ Why would anyone want this? _None_ of his Boys would have.Not the _true_ ones, anyway.This was not the life of a Lost Boy, held enslaved to metal bells whose shrieks could not compare to the shrieks of battle. 

Peter spotted one such boy darting down the corridor.The boy’s face was contorted into a strange combination of stress, misery, and hope.He’d head the rumor that Peter was here then.

Good. 

“Slightly,” Peter whispered.Ever the Lost Boy, trained to respond to Peter’s every command, Slightly heard him- even amidst the chaos of changing classes.Instincts honed over the years in Neverland, he dropped his books to the floor, crouched, and removed a switchblade from his pocket.He stood frozen, listening for more.

Peter resisted the urge to laugh. 

Once a Lost Boy, always a Lost Boy. 

“Slightly,” Peter said again, this time materializing right behind him.Slightly spun around, and a million emotions flashed through his eyes on the sight of Peter.Disbelief.Happiness.Fear.A crippling desire to run, and the knowledge that he would never, ever, make it.

“Pan.”He tilted his chin upwards.

Peter had to give him credit for not letting the fear show.He stared him down, but instead of slitting his throat, he said:

“I know you, Slightly.We’ve been friends for so long.You _hate_ school.You always did.You hated it when we went together.You want me to trust that you like it now?” 

Slightly was silent.He neither confirmed nor denied Peter’s assertions.Either answer could result in his death. 

“You want me to believe,” Peter continued, incredulous, “that you _like_ this life?”He gestured to the hallways.

Again, Slightly was silent.Despite himself, his heart gave a pang at Peter’s words.Storybrooke was boring, and stifling, and Slightly had gone from being an astonishing, remarkable being, an eternal warrior in service to the most extraordinary being of all, to a nobody.Just one of many boys in the town, shoved into a family who didn’t really want the responsibility of him.They tried to welcome him, but every so often, Slightly could see in their eyes the disappointment and the confusion.Just what _was_ he?Could he really be said to be a boy, they wondered, when he had lived hundreds of years?Did he need parents?Did he want them?Would he execute them in their sleep, desperate to play again the games of blood and war Peter had taught him to love? 

While Slightly had never truly wanted to murder them, he couldn’t deny that sometimes he did long for the fire and heat of battle.He yearned for his bow and arrow, for blood on his hands, for Peter’s approval for slaughtering a pirate.He craved it, he craved the freedom of being a Lost Boy, he craved the wildness of Neverland. 

“Tell me, Slightly.Why _did_ you betray me?” 

For a long time, Slightly didn’t answer, but then he said, “It was a mistake, Peter.A stupid mistake.”He’d been afraid of Peter in those last days, when his madness was apparent.And Emma Swan and the others had offered him something he’d always wondered about in Neverland- a family.A home.Slightly was one of the few Lost Boys who did not have entirely negative memories about this land.Unlike the others, his parents had merely died- of influenza, the doctors had said, as if that was supposed to make him feel better when he lost both them at once and was yanked out of the second family he’d had at school.So though he adapted well to Neverland, and appreciated the friends- the third family -he’d gained there, a part of him had wondered if what it would be like to have real parents again. 

And when the other boys gave in, so did he.They’d used that temptation against him. 

“It was a mistake, Slightly, wasn’t it?” Peter hissed, idly playing with his dagger.He knew Slightly could hear it, and the boy swallowed.Though he was obviously wary- Slightly was not a fool, and he was well-aware of Peter’s prowess -he also refused to show it.This was a lesson Peter had taught him, and it pleased Peter that Slightly still remembered it. _Slightly_ was a Lost Boy.Ferdinand, he thought scornfully, could learn from him. 

Feeling generous, Peter said, “But we’ve been friends for such a long time.One of the first Lost Boys.So I want to give you a chance to rectify it.”He smiled at Slightly, and despite his normal persona of arrogance and power, there was some genuineness in it.Slightly recognized that, and looked at hopefully.

Seeing he had won, Peter ordered, “Show me you’re loyal.Get rid of a threat to us.Get rid of someone who can’t be trusted,” he held his hand out to Slightly, “and if you do...then you can come home to Neverland with me, and this whole thing will be forgotten.”

Slightly took his hand. 


	13. Wings and Shadows

Outside the nurse’s office, Tinkerbell sat on a wooden bench.Felix took Pan’s command to stand guard literally, and was currently blocking the door.His arms were crossed, and he glared at anyone who walked by, though he was absolutely silent.She kept sneaking glances at him, but he didn’t notice- or at least pretended he didn’t. 

Still, the fairy felt compelled to talk, and said, “So, Pan’s back.”

Felix’s gray gaze fixed on her, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod before turning to scan the hallway again.Although they were both more than aware there was zero threat to Wendy in the nurse’s office, Peter had still ordered him to be alert, and so he would. 

“What now?” Tink asked.She didn’t really expect him to tell her.He was a quiet boy in general, and if he knew Pan’s plan, he would never reveal it.As she thought he would, he replied:

“What do you think, Tinkerbell?”His voice was harsher, without his typical drawl.

“We go home?” Tink hazarded, trying not to incense him further.Pan was the deadliest killer out of the Lost Boys, but Felix was the most precise.If he wanted to kill her, he would decide to and do it immediately and without remorse.Tink didn’t want to risk that- if there was anything being on Neverland had taught her, it was the value of her own life. 

“‘We?’” Felix repeated.His eyes bored into hers.Hurriedly, Tink looked away.She tucked an errant strand of hair behind in her ear, trying not to let her embarrassment show.Though he was right- why would she be included?Peter’s aim was, most likely, to return to Neverland and resume his post as king.He would do everything in his power to take Wendy with him.Felix, of course, would go- the loyal knight always accompanied the king.And, if Pan had his way, a fresh crop of Lost Boys, both some of the old corps and new recruits, would go and fill out the members of his court.

But Tinkerbell?She’d been exiled from the court a long time ago.Why would she be brought back? 

More importantly, she told herself, why had she even _asked?_ The entire reason she’d betrayed Pan was to get _away_ from Neverland.She should be happy to be in Storybrooke and fight to keep Wendy with her- and send Pan back where he came from, without either of them in his clutches. 

“Never mind,” Tink muttered.She shifted her position, fixing her stare on the lockers across the hall- so she didn’t see the pensive look Felix gave her. 

“You betrayed Pan,” he pointed out the very thing that made her irredeemable.It was the highest crime in Neverland, and one for which there was no forgiveness.The land itself would despise her.

“Yes,” Tink agreed.She couldn’t deny it, nor would she. 

“He wouldn’t take you back.Not alive.” 

“I know,” she swallowed, “Forget I mentioned it.” 

* * *

_“What are you doing wandering around this part of the island?” a familiar voice drawled, “Don’t the fairies have some sort of ball?”_

_“Felix, I really do not want to talk to anyone right now,” Tinkerbell said.She sat behind a tree, the leaves obscuring her from his view.She hugged her knees close to her chest, though the Neverland night was hardly cold._

_The Lost Boy stopped as he noticed Tink’s voice was without it’s normal haughty bite.She sounded incredibly vulnerable.In fact, she sounded as if she was holding back tears.Confused, he carefully stepped through the underbrush to her.As he rounded the tree, he realized that she was forcing herself not to sob.Worse, he realized why:her wings were gone.Jagged scars crisscrossed down the fairy’s back, the lines covered in old blood.Her glowing, effervescent aura was gone, and her green dress was torn and covered in dirt.Her cheek bore a blue bruise._

_Felix was no stranger to gore.He enjoyed it.He got a physical high from inflicting pain upon others.But the sight of Tink, wounded and without her wings, caused a feeling of intense revulsion in his gut.It was perhaps the first time he’d ever felt bad for anyone in Neverland- other than himself._

_“Tink, who did this to you?” he crouched beside her, reaching towards one of the scars, but she slapped his hand away._

_“Stop!” she hissed, “Just stop.It hurts enough without you rubbing it in.”Despite her efforts, a tear did slip down her cheek then._

_“I’m not rubbing it in,” he said, quite seriously._

_Taken aback by his reaction, Tink studied him, wary.He was utterly calm- then again, the only time she ever saw him show any sort of emotion was in the heat of battle.Still, she stared at him, her eyes wild as a frightened animal’s._

_Finally deciding he genuinely wasn’t mocking her, Tink said, “I tried to help someone, but I had to steal pixie dust to do it.”_

_“So?”_

_“Blue didn’t like that I tried to help Re- this person.She said that the person was evil and didn’t deserve help.That she was surrounded by darkness.To me...that’s the kind of person who needs help.But Blue disagreed, and then- then, she said she didn’t believe in me.When she said that...it ripped my wings off.”Fiercely, she brushed tears off her cheeks.She couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.How was Felix supposed to understand her situation?He didn’t do_ **helping** _people, unless one counted the twisted form of help Pan practiced by bringing boys to the island._

_Felix frowned,“Oberon and Titania won’t like this-” Though Tink was admittedly surprised Felix knew anything about fairy culture- the only human they deigned to associate with Peter -she replied, her tone despairing:_

_“Blue is Titania’s sister.She’s already heard, and they sent a messenger to tell me I will never be welcome at the fairy court- because I’m not a fairy anymore.”The words were terribly final.Tink had lost everything that made her special- not just her identity, but her family. She had nothing, and there was nothing she could do to gain it back._

_Felix didn’t tell her he was sorry.He didn’t give her words of comfort.Instead, he sat beside her for a while, then put an arm around her and tried to help her to her feet:_

_“We have to tell Pan.”_

_“No!”Tink hissed, “I can’t face him.I can’t face any of them- not like this._ **Never** _like this.”She was so ashamed- a fairy without wings!No, not even a fairy anymore-_

_“Tink, he’ll know.He always does, but it’s better if we tell him first.”_

_“Why?”_

_Felix grit his teeth, “Because he needs to see it.”_

_“Felix, I can’t,” Tinkerbell said, “Just...give me some time to heal.Or at least to clean up.”_

_“Two days,” he said._

_“Two days,” she agreed.As she walked off into the night, Felix watched her go, gray eyes inscrutable._

_A few hours later, Felix told Pan the story, and asked if he approved of Felix’s idea.Pan did._

_By the sunrise of the second day, all the fairies of Neverland were dead._

* * *

 

When Wendy awoke, it was under bright fluorescent lights instead of thousands of stars.Instead of the breeze of her treehouse, there was only the crack of the radiator.She didn’t wear her nightgown, but rather a khaki skirt and ripped black tights, and in place of the lacy blankets she’d had for hundreds of years, a cheap cotton blanket was laid over her. 

No, she was definitely in school.She sighed. 

The nurse heard her intake of breath, rushed over, and did a cursory check over her.Since Wendy was now conscious and otherwise fine, she merely gave her a juice-box and some crackers. Obediently, Wendy sipped until the box was empty.She only nibbled at the crackers, but there was no reason for her to eat them really- she’d fainted because of an eternal boy, not low blood sugar.Still, it made the nurse happy, and at last, she was cleared to go. 

Cautiously, Wendy opened the door, fully expecting to see Peter.Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Felix’s back. 

At the sight, she let out a loud breath, “Really?” It wasn’t the first time Felix had ever been sent to guard her, but she really saw no reason why he was to do so now.In Neverland, there had at least been a reason- there were pirates and all sorts of rogue wild creatures (and Wendy herself was never proficient enough with a weapon to face a raging tiger or a furious pirate) -but in school?The only thing that could harm her was Peter himself. 

Tink shoved Felix aside, “Yes, really.Apparently you get a shadow now.”It should have been a joke, but from a Neverlander, it was simultaneously a warning and an insult.Felix rolled his eyes at Tink’s antics, and while he could easily have stopped the fairy, he let her push him so Wendy and she could speak. 

Tink, after all, wasn’t going to harm Wendy. 

Wendy said, “It wouldn’t be the first time,” she eyed Felix, “Am I imprisoned in the nurse’s office, or can I go back to class?”Admittedly, she was embarrassed by what had happened, but she couldn’t constantly collapse every time she saw Pan.She had to get on with her life- or get on with it as much as she could with him here. 

At least until she could figure out what to do about it. 

“That depends,” Felix deadpanned, “Are you planning on fainting again?”Wendy glared at him, and Felix smirked.Deciding that he wouldn’t stop her, Wendy walked into the hall.Tink slipped her arm into Wendy’s.Without the girl noticing, the fairy surreptitiously looked back at Felix.He kept his gaze trained on them, and followed them as they passed the myriad of lockers.Classes had just changed, and while Wendy was undeniably late, she still intended on going to English. 

As Wendy retrieved her books from her own locker, she asked, “Are you still going to follow me around all day?” 

Felix drawled, “Tink does.” 

“We have the same classes!” Tink retorted, “You don’t.You have no reason to be following her-”

“I’m not following her,” Felix replied, “I’m _guarding_ her.Pan commanded me to.I am loyal to him.” 

The rest of the words were unspoken: _Unlike you._

Wendy paused, looking back and forth from Tink to Felix, unable to discern the source of tension between them.Felix’s expression was uncharacteristically stern.While he rarely showed true emotion, he was usually smirking and making fun of something- or someone. Now, facing Tink, he had anger in his eyes.Not the fierce, violent rage that represented Peter’s displeasure, but an anger that had been smoldering and simmering for centuries. 

That was when Wendy understood. 

“Oh my God,” she whispered, “Him? Tink, _him!?_ ” She was utterly incredulous.Tink simply looked away and refused to answer. 


	14. Scars are Souvenirs We Never Lose

_It was unexpected, simple, and not at all how Tinkerbell thought love was supposed to happen.She’d thought it would be bright and blazing, with all the fierce power of a storm.Yet her feelings for Felix grew slowly.Ever since the day he’d shown compassion over her lost wings, she’d seen him in a new light._

_She didn’t approve of his murder of the Neverland fairies, but she knew that, in his way, he’d been seeking justice for her.It wasn’t the typical bloodlust he usually had, that spiraled up occasionally and compelled him to hurt.It had an inspiration, a source, and while a part of her felt like she was responsible for the annihilation of all of the fairies on the island, a part of her was amazed her pain had triggered what could only be described as a vengeful, protective action from him._

_Tink realized then that Felix wasn’t the single-minded, savage boy she’d thought.So, curious, and utterly without anything else to do, since the fairies were gone- none of the other boys were close to her age, save Peter, and he was always concerned with Wendy -she’d started talking to Felix- if it could be called that.Most nights she’d just sit by him at the fire and talk_ **at** _him.She tried engaging him in conversation, but he rarely answered.Still, he never told her to leave, and as he fiercely dispatched anyone he was tired of listening to, she figured he couldn’t be entirely miserable listening to her._

_Finally, one night he talked back. Tink had asked him what brought him to Neverland.All of the Lost Boys had their histories, and she was curious about Felix’s.He was one of the first Lost Boys._ _[She couldn’t remember a moment since she’d met Peter that Felix hadn’t been nearby, the loyal knight of Neverland to his dark king._ _]Still, he’d been someone before he was the knight, and Tink believed it was_ **that** _someone who had been so enraged by the fairies’ treatment of her.Accordingly, she wanted to know more._

_“Not the Shadow,” Tink amended, “but what made you Lost?”She leaned forward and crossed her legs, studying his face in the glow of the fire._

_To her surprise, he was utterly calm as he told her:_

_“My father left when I was a baby, and my stepfather was a drunk.He used to beat my mother all the time.When I was young, I couldn’t do anything to defend her.I sat by and watched while he hurt her, over and over, and I wanted to kill him._

_“Finally, I grew up,” Felix uttered the forbidden words (he was confident, as Peter was away with Wendy, that he would not be punished), “He hit my mother, and one day, I hit him back.He punched me, hard, and while I was on the floor, my head spinning, he hit her so hard he killed her.”_

_Tink gasped, but Felix didn’t react.His voice was entirely flat as he detailed that dreadful day._

_“Even though I was hurt, I got up, and I swore I_ **would** _kill him.We fought for what seemed like hours.Finally I tripped, and he pinned me to the floor.When he took a knife to slash my throat, someone kicked him across the room.Instead of cutting my throat, the knife cut my cheek.I took advantage of the opening to rush him, throw him to the wall, and slam my fists as hard as I could into his head until I heard the bones break,” he paused, “Only after my stepfather’s skull was dented did I turn around to see who’d helped me.”_

_“Peter,” Tink said, eyes widening.No wonder Felix’s loyalty to Pan was so absolute. Pan had come to Felix’s aid in his darkest, most vulnerable moment.Without knowing anything about him- for if Peter was searching for him as a particular Lost Boy, Felix would have heard his pipes, and he clearly hadn’t -Peter had decided to help him.It was a rather selfless act on Pan’s part, and one Tink wouldn’t have expected from him._

_“Peter,” Felix confirmed, “He saved my life.”_

_“I’m so sorry,” Tink whispered.Instinctively, she reached for his hand.He flicked his eyes down to their clasped palms, then back at her.Unwittingly, she blushed. Without even one acknowledgment of what she’d done, he took his hand back and walked away into the trees. leaving her rejected and confused in camp._

_It took Felix a few days after that, but in sharing his past, it seemed as though Felix grew comfortable with her.He became a participant in their conversations, and eventually, she got him to laugh- and often.Tink found herself blushing in his presence, but unlike before, he didn’t seem taken aback by it.He smirked at her instead, and that only made her blush harder._

_One night, she’d stolen his cloak and run into the forest.Without her wings, she had no speed, and she knew Felix would catch up to her easily.While she had flown for years and years, using wings to propel her along, he’d only had his feet to carry him swiftly on the forest floor.Her legs, in comparison to his, were not nearly as strong._

_“You can’t run from me, Tinkerbell,” he’d drawled, a twinkle in his eyes.The fairy, as was becoming increasingly common when she was around him, blushed:_

_“You’re right.”She didn’t really want to run from Felix, anyway.While Peter prided himself on the ingenuity of his games, this had been Tink’s game; her method of getting Felix and her out of Pan’s sight._

_As she returned Felix’s cloak to him, their hands touched.This time, he didn’t let go.Instead, he stepped slowly towards her, and she to him.Hesitantly, she stood up on her tiptoes and touched her lips to his._

_She almost felt like her wings had returned when he kissed her back._

* * *

When neither Felix or Tink answered her, Wendy shuddered.She had to dissuade the tension somehow, and so she did the only thing she could think of- slammed her locker door and walked away.The crash of the metal jolted Tink and Felix out of their glaring contest, and the fairy hurried to Wendy’s side, determined not to look the Lost Boy in the eye again.Felix leisurely strolled after them, completely silent this time- though Tink could feel his gaze burning on her back like the fires they’d innocently talked by so long ago. 

As they rounded a corner, a familiar, panting figure collided with Wendy’s.Wendy was going to reprimand him at first, but when she recognized him, she threw her arms around him: 

“Tootles!You’re all right!”It seemed like forever since Pan had first made his appearance to them in the halls of the school, and they’d run for their lives.Wendy had been certain Tootles was dead, and she’d wanted to check- she’d really meant to -but when Pan had actually involved himself in her day to day life, even lurking in her bedroom, she’d been distracted. 

Still, she was more grateful than she’d ever been to see Tootles still breathing.Silently, she whispered a thousand prayers of thanks that he was standing in front of her.She’d feared the worst. 

“Wendy!” Tootles smiled as he returned her hug just as strongly.He flinched a bit at Felix’s disapproving look, but then decided to ignore the taller boy and instead focus on the girl who had been Mother to him. 

“I’m so glad to see you!” Wendy said, her eyes shining, “How did you-”

“Survive?” he finished her sentence, his happy grin fading.The word was dire, and anyone who looked at the teenagers standing in the hallway would have been stunned to realize they were discussing, not homework, but rather life, death, and murder as though they were a daily occurrence.The group wasn’t horrified, exactly, just resigned to it. 

At Tootles’ grim pronouncement, Wendy’s smile faded as well.Slowly, she released him from her embrace, unable to answer him. 

Seeing her reaction, Tootles said, “Wendy, you really don’t know?”His eyes were wide with disbelief.Gently, he reached for her again, but she stepped just out of his range and inquired: 

“Know what?” 

Tootles, a bit taken aback, said, “Wendy, he didn’t go after me.” He looked at her as if she was missing something very obvious. 

“What do you mean?” she inquired, heart pounding.She knew what he was going to say, but she still didn’t want him to say it.Now, her prayers of thanks morphed quickly into prayers of supplication- _please don’t let it have been a game, please don’t let it have been a game just to hunt me, please don’t let the Boys have died so Peter could try to entrap me..._ Morbidly, her mind wandered to chess, a game that John had loved and taught her to play: _Please don’t let the Boys have been pawns who died so the king could trap the queen..._  

“When I ran,” Tootles swallowed, “His footsteps faded away.Wendy, he didn’t follow me. _He followed you_.”He stared at her for a long moment, both with genuine concern and as if he was asking for forgiveness.Then Wendy understood why- she hadn’t just not seen Tootles because she was so anxious about Peter and his doings.She also hadn’t seen Tootles because he’d had been avoiding _her,_ hoping that she would realize what had happened without him having to tell her. 

“But he didn’t kill me,” Wendy said, the weight of Tootles’ words sinking in, “He could have easily killed me.Isn’t that what he wanted?Revenge?But he didn’t kill me.Why would he- why did he- _Felix_ -” She spun around to face the tall, impassive Lost Boy.As she sputtered in confusion, Felix replied:

“I don’t know, Wendy.I was in jail.I don’t know his plan-” he crossed his arms.

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Tink interjected, her voice the angry one now.

“I’m telling you, I don’t know his plan,” Felix said, ignoring Tink’s outburst, “but I do know Peter Pan never fails.He _will_ win.And if you’re alive, it’s because he wants you to be.”

* * *

_For weeks after Hook had tried to ransom her, Wendy had pondered the pirate’s advice:“Leave Neverland while you still can.”Some parts of Neverland were truly wonderful, just as some parts of Peter were truly wonderful.But some were dark and harsh, just as some parts of Peter were dark and harsh.She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the island that nurtured this darkness in him.Perhaps if she could get him away from it, the lightness in him could be fostered._

_Perhaps he could take her to a real ball._

_Perhaps they could be Mother and Father for real._

_Perhaps she could convince him that taking them all back to London was the best thing to do._

_So it was that Wendy followed Peter to a massive tree that grew on the northern shore of Neverland.She’d noticed he went there to be alone, though these occasions were rare- and she had been waiting to get him alone for some time.Wendy knew that she had no prayer of success if she asked him to go home in front of the Lost Boys, but if she could persuade him while alone,and he agreed, he’d put on a show for the boys and they would all consent to what Peter would portray as a magnificent idea- his own, of course.Wendy was fine with that.She just wanted to go home- with him.Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted him- despite all she’d seen of what he was capable of, she couldn’t seem to get it to stop doing that._

_Peter sat, his back leaning against the tree.He seemingly watched the Jolly Roger loll gently in the night waves, but he was well-aware of Wendy’s presence.Even if he had not been attuned to everything on the island, her rapid breathing would have given her away._

_“Bird, you can come out now,” he said neutrally.He’d realized that Wendy had been shocked by his...treatment...of Hook’s crew for their kidnapping her.But what Wendy didn’t understand was that the pirates had almost_ **killed** _her.If he hadn’t heard her- if they’d gagged her, and he’d let the storm go on...Peter grit his teeth._

_They deserved worse than what Peter gave them, really, though he supposed he could have taken more care and managed their deaths later, out of Wendy’s view.Maybe then she wouldn’t be tiptoeing around him, as she had for days, as if she expected him to lash out and slaughter anything that struck his fancy.As if she expected him to lash out at_ **her.**

_Peter didn’t like that Wendy was afraid of him.He’d tried to give her some space when he understood the problem, though now he was tired of it.He wanted her to laugh at his jokes again, to follow him up into the clouds and dance.He wanted her to look at him with wonder and that mysterious emotion he couldn’t name.Not fear.So he was hoping that tonight, they could put her worries to rest and go back to normal._

_Wendy made her way out of the forest, then stood before him, hands clasped.It was terribly formal, and it made Peter’s skin crawl with the sense that something wasn’t right.He gestured for her to sit beside him, but she merely shook her head._

_“Peter-” Wendy gulped, unable to voice the words she had been practicing for hours in her treehouse.Now that the moment had come, now that she was staring into his puzzled, yet alluring, eyes, she was terrified of the outcome.What if this was a mistake?What if she couldn’t take it back?What if-_

_“What?” Peter inquired, sensing her reluctance.He studied her, and noticed her constant fidgeting.She was having trouble meeting his gaze, but when she did, her own eyes were filled with guilt._

_Suddenly, Peter knew what she was about to ask, and he opened his mouth to deny it.Before he could, the words poured out of her:_

_“Peter, I think I should go home.I think_ **we** _should go home.You, me, the boys-” They followed one after the other, like a waterfall that could not be stopped._

_“Wendy,” Peter replied evenly,“Neverland_ **is** _your home.”_

_“No, Peter, it’s not,” Wendy insisted, “London’s my home, and I know it’s some of the boys’ homes, and it could be yours, if you wanted.” She swallowed uncomfortably, worried that she might have revealed too much with her quiet request- how much_ **_she_ ** _wanted London to be their home._

_Immediately, Peter retorted, “I do_ **not** _want it! Neverland is my home!”He jumped to his feet, and strode so close to her she could feel his breath on her cheeks.He towered over her, and Wendy couldn’t bring herself to move away.He cupped her chin in his hand and repeated:_

_“Neverland is your home.”He stared at her harshly, as if the strength of his stare and the repetition of his words could make the statement true.But it wasn’t.Wendy knew that with every fiber of her being, and so she said:_

_“Peter, I want to go home.My_ **real** _home.Neverland’s amazing, but-”_

_“But what?” Peter demanded, releasing her from his grip, “What’s wrong with Neverland?”_

_“It’s-” Wendy paused, choosing her words carefully, “It’s missing something.It’s just...incomplete-”_

_“Incomplete?” Peter practically snarled, “Neverland’s_ **incomplete**? _Wendy, the island is a part of me.Are you saying_ **I’m** _lacking something?That_ **I’m** _incomplete?That_ **I’m** _deficient?”He was rapidly growing angrier and angrier.Neverland was constructed purely by the strength of his considerable imagination.The land had been born for him, and grown by him, and flourished under his rule.Their existences, his and the island’s, were now permanently entwined.He felt every step upon its soil as the land reflected his every emotion.For Wendy to call Neverland incomplete was for her to call_ **him** _incomplete- and both of them knew it._

_Desperately, Wendy insisted, “No, Peter!Neverland is wonderful- and you’re wonderful- but I just- I see the man you could be, and I-” This had gone wrong.So horribly, horribly wrong.Peter was supposed to carefully consider her petition to return to London, and she would explain to him why it should occur.He was supposed to turn to her and say that of course they would go, if she wished it, that of course they would be together, if she wished it-_

_“You, what, Wendy?”Peter sneered, “You want me to be a man?” He made it sound as if the concept was utterly impossible, and she was an idiot for wishing for such a thing._

_Embarrassed, and forcing tears back, Wendy replied, “Yes!I do!I want you to meet my mother and father!I want you to take me to my first ball!I want-”_

_“‘I want, I want, I want,’” Peter mocked her.Then he paused, eyes widening, “Oh, I_ **see.** _You have feelings for me!” He snickered._

_“Peter,” Wendy begged, “Please.I know you care for me-” She knew it in her soul.He didn’t have to be so mean about it.Perhaps she should have realized that he would be reluctant to leave Neverland; that he would be afraid to leave everything he’d ever known and go to London and acknowledge such a grown-up thing as love.However, she decided to appeal to his heart anyway, feeling it was the only card she had left._

_Pan laughed cruelly, “I do not care about you.It was just a game, Wendy, and if you’re so unhappy in Neverland, then it’s time for the game to be over.” He moved his hand subtly in the darkness, and his Shadow rushed towards Wendy.She shrieked as it trapped her in its arms, its grip tighter than a mermaid dragging its prey to the ocean depths._

_“What are you doing!?” Wendy asked, struggling against her captor- both the Shadow and its associated commander.She was frantic, helpless prey caught in a trap she had never imagined existed._

_Peter smiled at her then, but there was nothing pleasant in his smile, “I’m granting your request.I’m sending you home, Bird.”_

_“No!” Wendy protested, “Not like this!Peter, not like this!I want the Boys to come with me; I want you-”_

_“Well, Wendy, I don’t want_ you, _” he said, voice filled with contempt._

_“That’s a lie!” she retorted immediately._

_“Is it?” Peter cocked his head at her.His smirk was so perfect that for a dreadful instant, she started to doubt herself.Still, she maintained:_

_“Yes, it is!” Wendy struggled against the Shadow’s grip, “You saved me from pirates!You killed them because you were worried about me!You danced with me!You care about me-”_

_“It was a game,” Peter enunciated each word carefully, “a new game that started when you came to Neverland.You were Mother, and I was Father, and I’m so_ **good** _at playing games. It seems I played too well.”He approached his Shadow and stared at the girl in its arms._

_Wendy’s heart started to pound even as it broke, “No, Peter.No.It was real; I know it was-”_

_“It was just a game,” Peter repeated, “and now it’s over.Goodbye, Wendy.”He nodded to his Shadow, it began to rise.A despairing Wendy, even now fighting against it, cried out:_

_“Peter, you don’t really want me gone-”_

_“But I do,” he answered earnestly, then explained, “No one leaves this island unless I want them to.You’ll be gone because_ **I want you to be** _, Wendy.”_

_“I don’t believe you,” Wendy said, tears slipping down her cheeks.He was lying.She knew it, and she suspected he did too.If he did, though, he gave no hint of it when he answered her with a casual shrug:_

_“That’s your mistake.”_

_Wendy closed her eyes, unwilling to look at him anymore.Perversely, she hid her head in Peter’s Shadow’s shoulder to muffle her sobs.She didn’t want him to see how distraught she was.She continued to cry as the Shadow took her into the sky, faster and faster, racing through the rapidly gathering thunderstorm._

_As he watched her disappear, Peter’s smirk slipped away.He shook slightly, then sunk to the ground, his eyes filled with an eerie light as they fixated on the lightning-filled sky._

 

 


	15. I'm Learning All Your Tricks; I can Hurt You from Inside

It was midnight, and Peter Pan walked the streets of Storybrooke, as he had every night since he’d made his contract with the Evil Queen and the Savior.True to his word, he roamed it as if it were his kingdom, though he harmed no one- and true to their word, they stayed inside their homes anyway.What they all failed to realize was that he was moving around the town to memorize it.He wished to examine every stone so closely that he knew the town layout almost as well as Neverland.If he was to succeed in his plan, he needed to understand all he could about this mysterious Land Without Magic.Peter thought it a rather pitiful place since it lacked magic, though some residents seemed happy enough. 

But not all residents were, and it was these residents he was particularly interested in.Peter knew who some would be, of course- Slightly and Felix definitely, and most likely Nibs.However, he didn’t know _all_ of them, though he was looking forward to it.Carefully, he lifted his pipes to his lips.An eerie tune softly drifted throughout the town, though only a select few could hear its notes.He observed three boys in the houses he passed just now pull their curtains aside in confusion.They didn’t climb out of the window, as they once would have- all the windows were locked and bolted tonight.But they looked around, puzzled, until they spotted him.He smiled and waved at them, and he could practically see the thoughts in their minds: 

_Peter Pan!This is the one everyone’s afraid of!But he doesn’t look dangerous.He looks...nice._

Then their faces morphed into a perplexed curiosity.Peter’s smile grew wider as he continued to play.When he waved again, two of the three boys he’d spotted waved back.He knew then that if he could only speak to them, they would be his.Still, he sensed that flying to their windows now wouldn’t help his cause.He had to talk to them in a setting more natural for them, a setting where he looked like an ordinary boy who could be their friend. 

And he knew exactly where. 

* * *

Wendy stood at her window, frozen in place by the haunting song that used to play only in her dreams.Part of her hated that she heard it.It meant that she felt lost, lonely, and unloved- all things she shouldn’t feel.She was in Storybrooke, reunited with her brothers at last.Why should she feel this way, when she had everything she’d ever wanted? 

Despite the fact she had those things, Wendy could hear Pan’s pipes.Frustrated, she put her fingers in her ears, but that didn’t help.She opened the window, where Felix, commanded as ever to guard her, stood as a sentinel on her porch.He was smiling- but then again, he would smile to hear the song.For him, it wasn’t a song of loneliness or despair.It was a song signifying the return of his greatest leader, and a sign that he would have new friends soon. 

At the screech of the window, he turned to look up at her and murmured, “Wendy, go to bed.” He gave the order distractedly, and she knew his focus was more on the song than her. 

“I can’t,” Wendy said through gritted teeth, “It won’t stop.I can’t stop hearing-” abruptly, she cut herself off.She was unwilling to admit this weakness to him, but Felix could guess what had happened anyway.The color had drained from her face, and she looked stricken. 

Felix chuckled to himself as he realized her predicament, “So Wendy Darling can hear the song of the Lost Ones!”It was something that had never happened to her before.Even in Neverland, she had been secure in the love of her brothers.She _knew_ they loved her, and while she might have felt lonely on occasion, she had never felt lost.She had been exactly where Pan had wanted her, and exactly where her brothers hoped to retrieve her.She’d had a place, even if she did not much like it.As such, she’d never heard Pan’s pipes. 

“Shut _up_ , Felix!” Wendy snarled.The last thing she needed was his mockery. 

The Lost Boy laughed at her rage, “What, Wendy?You think me not saying it will stop it?Once you hear the song, _nothing makes it stop-”_

“Henry doesn’t hear it anymore!” Wendy insisted.She had no idea whether this was true or not, but she thought it must be.He was home in Storybrooke- thus he was no longer lost -and with his family and friends -and thus he was no longer lonely or unloved.

“Have you asked him?” Felix inquired, but Wendy didn’t reply.He was betting she hadn’t- Wendy had spent the majority of her time since they returned from Neverland pretending the whole thing never happened.As such, while she’d say hello to Henry, she never talked to him in depth, let alone about Neverland. 

At Wendy’s silence, Felix smiled.He had been right.Satisfied, he continued, “If you’ve been to Neverland, and you hear those pipes, the song never stops.If you haven’t been to Neverland, and suddenly you don’t feel lost, lonely, and unloved, maybe it does,” he shrugged, “I don’t know.But once you’ve been on Neverland’s shores- if you hear it, it doesn’t stop.”He grinned at her, somewhat perversely pleased by her unease. 

Wendy said nothing for what seemed like ages.She merely stared at the Lost Boy, anger blazing like a raging fire, but beneath it, resignation.Felix merely gazed up at her, unsure why this was such a shock to her.Had she really thought she would never hear the pipes?All Neverlanders did, eventually.Pan’s music matched the emotions within their hearts, tying them to him and to the island forever.

“Come on, Wendy,” Tinkerbell appeared next to Wendy at the window.Clad in a blue pajama set, her golden hair loose around her shoulders, she looked far less haughty- and hunted -than usual.Gently, she put her arms around the girl, then guided her out of Felix’s view- presumably back to her bed.She returned to the window a few seconds later, her green eyes meeting Felix’s stormy gray for a long moment. 

Felix queried, “Are you going to ask me to tell Pan to stop?”It was what he expected her to do.Although Tinkerbell was conscious of Pan’s power, she also was conscious of how close she’d once been to Felix.Most people wouldn’t balk at requesting a favor from a former lover, and Tink was never one to hold back. 

“No,” she replied immediately, her voice clear and distinct in the night air.Her answer came swiftly, quickly and without consideration of any other option. 

Surprised, Felix aske, “Why not?” 

Tink explained, “Because I couldn’t ask Pan for anything.I’m not fool enough to think you can ask him either.” 

With that, she shut the window, leaving the usually unflappable Lost Boy utterly unnerved. 

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur.Felix guarded Wendy every second from the moment she left her house to when she returned to it.Wendy didn’t see Peter, though she knew, just _knew,_ he was around.She’d awake in the middle of the night to find her bedroom window open, a cool wind on her face.Her covers would be mussed, and she swore she heard footsteps, though her room was always empty.Then, of course, there was the music from his pipes. 

Nevertheless, Wendy did not have nightmares, and that knowledge made her gut twist.She told herself she didn’t have nightmares anymore because the central feature of her nightmares was physically walking around.The alternative for what exactly was keeping her nightmares at bay was too confusing, and too unnerving, to contemplate. 

Meanwhile, the other inhabitants of Storybrooke were at first braced for war, going about their daily lives with trepidation.Yet when the blow didn’t come, they began to relax a little.Most forgot about Peter’s presence, or at least didn’t think of him until curfew set in.And even then, when he didn’t show himself, he remained in the back of their thoughts.

That was exactly what Peter wanted.Complacency in a game was a trait reserved for the loser. 

And he never lost. 

Content with his strategy for the game, Peter continued to spend his nights wandering around Storybrooke, playing his pipes and scouting the area. Sometimes Felix accompanied him.Often, though, he left his second at the house at the edge of town occupied by Wendy Darling and Tinkerbell, and prowled around the town alone. 

So long as people didn’t look out their windows, they wouldn’t see the Shadow King creeping amongst them as he sought out the Lost souls of this world.

When Peter did finally show himself in the light of the day, it stunned the mayor.Regina, the former Evil Queen, was shell-shocked.Standing across from her longtime enemy, she said: 

“Let me see if I understand this correctly,” she crossed her arms, “You want to go to high school?Doesn’t that go against everything you stand for?”Pan’s entire quest for the Heart of the Truest Believer had been based off the desire to preserve his youth and immortality forever.Attending high school was one of the signs a child was growing older.It didn’t correlate with anything she knew about Pan. 

The eternal boy sitting in the chair before the principal’s desk shrugged, “I stand for not growing up.To my knowledge, in this world, you’re not grown up ‘til you turn eighteen, which is after high school.” 

“Not always,” Regina riposted instantly.She was suspicious of what Pan’s motives were- for he invariably had them.Despite his face, he was no innocent. 

“But mostly,” Peter countered easily.He smiled at her, confident in what Felix had explained to him.There were twelve months in a year here, and of those, only those born in the first four and a half would be eighteen before they graduated high school.Peter kept the knowledge of his actual birthday to himself- but he had been born in the summer, and so even had he attended high school as a mortal boy, he wouldn’t have reached that critical age of adulthood. 

“How old are you, exactly?” Regina demanded.She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering for the first time how ancient the being sitting across from her was.He looked harmless enough, but she knew from experience he wasn’t.Similarly, he looked enough like an adolescent, but his own eyes gave away the calculating wisdom of someone who had lived far longer than anyone should.She had the discomfiting sensation he was older than her, and perhaps older than Rumplestiltskin.It made her skin crawl. 

“Seventeen,” Pan stated. 

“You can’t be seventeen,” the mayor pressed.Each of them knew he was beyond seventeen- mentally he was beyond all humans who had ever existed. 

“You forget in Neverland, time is frozen.I arrived at seventeen.I’m seventeen,” Peterslightly adjusted his position, so he was no longer sitting respectfully in the chair.Instead, he was lounging in it as though it were a throne.Regina felt a flash of irritation at the sight, and she asserted: 

“You’re not a boy, then.You’re a teenager.” 

Peter smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes, “I expected more of the Evil Queen than arguing semantics.In this world, I still count as a boy.And aren’t there laws saying children have to be in school?”This was another tidbit Felix had mentioned to him. 

“You’re not exactly a minor.”

He shrugged, and simply stared at her.An exasperated Regina began to pace around the room.As she reached the side of the room by the window, she approached the princess who had destroyed her life.Mary Margaret, the former Snow White, was present as the representative of Storybrooke’s newly-formed School Department. She wasn’t talking to Pan directly- that had been left as the prerogative of the mayor -but she was there to observe and comment.

“I don’t think this is that bad of an idea, Regina,” she whispered furtively, keeping her gaze on Pan. 

“How is this not a bad idea?” Regina almost yelled at the woman, as stupid as an adult as she had been as a child.Letting a teenage serial killer into a _school-_ the very school were one of his victims had been brutally murdered -hardly seemed ideal.Admittedly, the contract forbade him from killing- but she firmly believed Pan was capable of much more than death.His continued existence was a blatant demonstration of that.

“In the daytime, you said he promised Storybrooke was Emma’s,” Mary Margaret explained, “He’d have to follow the rules.Besides, wouldn’t it be better to have him somewhere we can watch him?Keep your friends close, and enemies closer kind of thing?” 

“You realize I can hear you,” Peter said.He was smirking in his chair, and Regina wanted to slap him.He was far too insolent- and, though she refused to say it, too powerful -for her liking. She could not punish him, though she dreamed every night of the tortures she’d like to inflict on him for what he’d tried to do to Henry. 

Ignoring the tension, Mary Margaret pressed, “What’s worse?Peter Pan walking around Storybrooke, or Peter Pan confined to a building Monday to Friday where we can keep track of him?” 

“It’s always better to have your prey in sight,” Peter noted.His eyes glittered with mirth.Regina bit her lip, running a hand through her hair.She had to think clearly, and she couldn’t do that with Pan making snarky commentary.All it made her want to do was throw a fireball at him.

“Stay here,” she commanded Mary Margaret, then left the flustered teacher with the devil boy.She closed the door to the principal’s office, then walked down the hallway, determined to be out of the earshot of Pan. Her heels clacked on the linoleum, the sound as loud as fireworks in the quiet hallways.Retrieving her cell phone, she dialed Killian Jones. 

“Your Majesty,” the pirate answered immediately, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Peter Pan wants to go to high school,” Regina said without preamble.Typically, she would have berated him for his arrogance, but she didn’t have time today. 

There was a hesitation on the line, but then Hook hypothesized, “And you want to know if it’s a good idea.” 

“You know him better than anyone.” 

Hook admitted, “Not quite true, but close enough.In either case, there are no good ideas with Pan.It’s all bad, with various degrees of bad and worse.” 

Regina rolled her eyes and leaned against a locker, “I’m aware of that, but could you perhaps add a _little more_ of your expertise to the matter?Something helpful, perhaps.” 

The pirate considered the concept, then said carefully, “I think it would be better than letting him walk around town unaccompanied.He might run into Henry otherwise.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“From what Swan told me, Pan can’t kill anyone, kidnap Henry, or curse you.Doesn’t block him from seeking Henry out on a daily basis.You can keep watch on Henry before or after school, but what about during it?You’ve got to run the town; Pan can easily move around unobstructed.” 

“So you’re saying I should let Pan into high school to guarantee he’s away from my son while my son’s in school.”

Hook clarified, “I’m saying that you only get the certainty of Henry being left alone during those times by letting Pan go to high school.Otherwise, Pan might go to Henry; he might not, but you can’t be certain.You don’t know what he’d do.And you can’t force Henry to be with you all the time.” 

Regina sucked in a breath, “Thank you, Hook.”She quickly pocketed the phone, then walked back into the office, head held high. 

“Welcome to Storybrooke High,” she practically spat out the words. 

Pan smiled.

* * *

It came as no surprise to Wendy that the first day Peter appeared at Storybrooke High School as a student, certain boys immediately gravitated to him.Peter Pan was enchanting when he wanted to be, but was always, always, planning and cunning.Still, he presented a figure of strength, confidence, and welcome to the boys who came to him. 

Some had been orphans in the Enchanted Forest.Some had severe conflict in their families.Some were simply the prodigal sons in the town. 

In short, they were Lost, and Peter Pan, whatever his many faults, considered it his duty to save Lost Boys.They were pulled towards him like planets gravitating towards a newly formed star. 

Pan basked in the attention, and he reveled in the companionship of new friends.In addition to regaining the Heart of the Truest Believer, here too was another noble cause for him in Storybrooke:saving boys who had been lost for too long. 

Wendy watched as Peter held court in the lunch room.He sat at a table by the window, with Felix on his right.His left was occupied by a boy Wendy knew as Owen Dodge.Owen was a loner by nature, but the other kids avoided him regardless.He was one of the unfortunate sort who was automatically, unanimously, unconsciously chosen by the majority to be the designated school outcast.Despite her elevated social status- Wendy had been absorbed into the popular group of girls headed by Grace -Wendy had always felt pity for Owen, and when no one was looking, gave him a smile and kind word.Owen had never said much back- maybe he didn’t trust her since she only talked to him when they were alone -but he seemed absolutely starstruck by Peter.He was constantly talking to Peter, and Peter gave him what appeared to be his undivided attention.To Owen, this singular, directed attention was more than he had ever received, and what he’d desired for years.He genuinely believed Pan was focused on him and him alone. 

Wendy and Tink knew better.Peter was constantly observing _everything_.He absorbed and catalogued details around him with a precision no mortal could hope to match.After all, he’d had centuries to practice.Now, Peter was a predator adjusting to his new environment- he was surveying his surroundings, and the people within it. 

Owen paused in whatever he was telling Peter to take a drink from his water bottle, and Peter used the opportunity to cast his gaze around the cafeteria.Upon his eyes meeting Wendy’s, his lips spread in a feral grin.Chills ran up Wendy’s spine, and it took her a few moments to break the stare.Rattled, she stabbed at her salad, the tomatoes bursting open in sprays of red juice.The bright color reminded Wendy of blood. 

That sight, combined with the memory of Peter’s smile of a few minutes before, was enough to make Wendy lose her appetite.She sighed, then picked up her plate and made her way over to the trash can. Tink didn’t follow her since Wendy was in her direct line of sight.As Wendy deposited her plate in the bin, she heard a familiar voice behind her: 

“Bird, you need to eat.” 

Of course he was here.Of _course_ he was.He’d take advantage of any opportunity to get her alone- even if she wasn’t truly alone.Wendy turned around to face Peter, whose smile had since disappeared and been replaced by disapproval. 

“I’m not hungry,” Wendy replied. 

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m not, Peter.I’m really not,” she maintained. 

“Wendy-bird, you need to eat. Birds can’t fly if they don’t eat.” 

At his words, Wendy flinched.He was deliberately bringing up a memory, and this time, it was a particularly painful one. 

_No,_ she thought, pushing the memory down, _I can’t keep doing that.I can’t keep sinking into memory.I have to live.I have to try._

Emboldened, Wendy stated, “I don’t want to fly, Peter.I want to be normal.I want to go to school.I want to go shopping.I want to go to football games-” she was mentioning everything that she had ever thought of going to as Gwen in a desperate attempt to remind herself that she wasn’t in Neverland.Even seemingly insignificant things, such as sports, counted, for these were things that never would have happened in Neverland, and these were the things that would keep her grounded in the real world. 

“Football?” Peter sneered, “You’d rather see football than _fly_?”He crossed his arms, both incredulous at her assertion and completely contemptuous of it. 

“Yes!” Wendy said, “It can be fun, being normal!” The words sounded weak, even to her own ears. 

“I am _not_ normal!” Peter argued, the words coming out on a hiss.His eyes had narrowed into slits.

“I know!” Wendy shot back (God knew Peter was anything and everything but normal), “But you’re having fun talking to ordinary boys right over there!Normal, ordinary boys, who do normal, ordinary things-” she gestured to the table of boys who waited for his return, eager as puppies.They were observing the exchange between Peter and Wendy with sheer fascination. 

“They can be more,” Peter waved his hand toward them carelessly. 

“Right now, they are _normal_ ,” Wendy said through gritted teeth, “and I want that.Freedom.A chance to start over.” _A chance to forget you._

“Football,” Peter rolled his eyes, “ _Normal.Ordinary._ Wendy-bird, you aren’t normal.You aren’t ordinary.You, who live in a land of mermaids and fairies and pirates, would be bored.”He said this as if he had merely told her the sky was blue, and Wendy was annoyed at his casual assumption about her.

“The fairies are dead, Peter; the pirates are in Storybrooke; and many of the mermaids left Neverland as well.I’m not bored by it.I won’t be,” she said confidently, then added brazenly, “and I bet you wouldn’t be bored either, if you gave it a chance.It has everything you like in it- chase, fighting-” With this statement, she was only hoping to defend normalcy to Peter.She never expected him to acknowledge normalcy, or seek it out.Her mouth dropped open as he replied simply: 

“Fine.There’s one tonight, isn’t there?Dodger mentioned it.” 

“His name is Owen,” Wendy sputtered, too shocked Peter was even considering the football game to say anything else. 

“I know a Lost Boy when I see one, and I name the Lost Boys.His name is Dodger.And if you’re so desperate for me to go to a football game, Wendy, then I’ll go.Let’s see what kind of games they play here.”Then he granted her another sinister grin before he strode back to his table.

* * *

A few hours later, Wendy and Tink sat next to each other in the football stands.Wendy wore a black pleated skirt, a maroon and white sweater (Storybrooke High’s colors), and boots, while Tink wore jeans and a Storybrooke High sweatshirt.Since the town had decided to proceed as though everything was normal, that included sports activities.Wendy, both to hold onto the remnants of her sanity and to give what measure of protection to her friends she could by her presence, had decided it was worth it to attend the football game she’d taunted Peter with earlier.Tink, who went with her everywhere now, had joined her.Grace and Gretel waved to her from the field- both were cheerleaders -and Wendy gave a halfhearted wave back. 

“That was convincing,” Tink snorted. 

“You’re not nervous?” Wendy retorted, quickly defensive. 

“Of course I am,” Tink replied, “but what’s that going to do?You challenged him to go, and you know Peter never says no to a challenge. He’ll be here, no matter what.” 

Wendy sighed.Tink had a point.She had provoked Peter at lunch.She’d been dead set on reminding herself that she was in Storybrooke, not Neverland, and had let words spill out of her without considering the consequences.Then, she’d found herself strangely fearless, as if by mentioning little things about Storybrooke, she could cocoon herself among them as a form of protection- for Peter did not acknowledge small things, let alone the ordinary. 

But stupidly, she’d forgotten he never backed down from a challenge.And now Peter Pan was going to a football game.She’d made her entire school targets to Peter Pan’s wrath, instead of just her and Tink.And she had no one to blame but herself.

“Hello, Bird.” 

Wendy forced herself not to shudder as she heard his voice.She turned to greet him, fighting with everything she had to be neutral; to hide her fear. 

Still, it was hard, especially as he stood there, smirking and self-assured.As usual, he wore his outfit of stitched leaves- she supposed that would never change -though even Felix, who stood loyally next to him, had conceded to wearing Storybrooke High colors.He’d traded his typical brown sweatshirt for one of maroon and white- almost identical to Tink’s. 

It would have been cute had Wendy had not known who they really were. 

“Peter,” Wendy stated, a bit unnecessarily, “You’re here.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Of course.You said this was game would be interesting.I wanted to see for myself.” 

“And he’s here because?” Tink asked, gesturing toward Felix.His presence blatantly made the fairy uncomfortable. 

Pan gave her an angelic smile, “Felix is my best friend.Besides, he’s a student here too.” 

Wendy examined Pan’s and Tink’s faces.Tink glared at Peter with unabashed hatred, still furious with Peter for his mistreatment of her.Pan continued to smile innocently, but his own eyes were dark.Felix noticed none of the exchange, because he was so stunned- and apparently, pleased, judging by his broad smile -at Pan openly naming him as his best friend. 

Wendy wondered if Felix knew what Peter had done to separate him and Tink.If Felix did, would he still be so happy to be called Peter Pan’s best friend? 

She wasn’t so sure. 

Before she could ask, Peter sat next to her.Although Felix moved to sit on Peter’s other side, he was stopped by Pan shaking his head.Peter gestured towards Tink, and puzzled, but obedient as ever, Felix moved to sit next to the fairy.Pan was playing with them, and Felix didn’t even know it.Tink, though, was more than aware of Pan’s machinations, and her cheeks flushed red with anger.Wendy went to reprimand Peter, but the words died on her lips.She knew it would do more harm than good. 

“So, Wendy,” Peter said casually, “How do you play this game?”The made it sound as if he were genuinely curious, but Wendy doubted his sincerity.He was trying to make her as uncomfortable as possible by pretending this was normal- and much to her consternation, he was succeeding.

Wendy swallowed, “There are four quarters.Each team tries to get the ball, and they get a chance to kick it, and run with it towards those big posts at the end of the field-” 

Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion (though Wendy suspected it was feigned), “Where does chase come in?You said there was chase, and fighting.” He looked her directly in the eyes, and she was torn between staring at his own ethereal orbs or focusing on what he actually was.Heart pounding, she shook her head, attempting to break the connection. 

“One team goes after the other, because they don’t want that team to reach the posts with the ball.They can stop the team that’s running with the ball however they want,” Wendy recited the words robotically, still struggling not to be pulled in by him, “They can run into them, or tackle them, try to pin them to the ground-” Desperately, she tried to ignore that Peter was beside her- that in fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, he was inching closer to her with her every word. 

For a second, she allowed herself to wonder what it might have been like if they had been in the Enchanted Forest when the curse had occurred- if Peter, Wendy, Felix, and Tinkerbell had been caught up in the Evil Queen’s original curse.If they didn’t know who they were, or the horrible events that bound them all together. 

Wendy might really have been Gwen Carissima, sitting between her handsome, charismatic boyfriend and her best friend.Tinkerbell might be flushing not with anger at Pan, but in annoyance over a silly fight with Felix.The Lost Boy might be suppressing a smile, not over being acknowledged as Pan’s best friend, but over Tink’s antics.And Peter might have been the man she’d once imagined him capable of being- a leader, surely, admirable, definitely, but also kind and generous, without a malicious, sadistic bone in his body. 

_If only._

Wendy sighed, then shivered in the crisp, cold fall air.Peter noticed instantly.One of his arms slid easily around her, bringing her close to his body. 

She hated herself when, honed over years of habit, her body automatically relaxed in his warmth.She hated herself even more when she realized that, as he’d predicted, she was horribly, incredibly, entirely bored with the game.The quarters seemed to drag on forever, while the cheerleaders’ cries seemed silly and ridiculous.The dwarves barely moved the ball down the field with each play, and though they were not as short as they had been in the Enchanted Forest, they still had a small stature here.It made it hard to see them do anything on the field. 

Surreptitiously, Wendy shifted in Peter’s arms, trying to sneak a glance at her watch.As always, he caught her every gesture.He laughed softly: 

“Bored, Bird?” 

“No,” Wendy retorted, “I just- I wanted to see how much time was left until half-time.”

“What happens at half-time?” Peter queried.She could hear the amusement in his tone, though he was pretending to be genuinely inquisitive.He knew she was lying, and he found it incredibly amusing. 

“Grace and Gretel- my friends -they said the cheerleaders are doing some kind of dance,” Wendy had stopped paying attention to the girls’ lunchtime conversation halfway through (she’d been too absorbed in watching Peter), but she clung to the very first thing they’d mentioned.It was her excuse, however implausible.

Tink begged, “ _Please_ tell me we can leave before that.Please, Wendy.”They were her first words since the game had started, and while she made them sound sarcastic, Wendy was all-too aware that Tink was agitated and uncomfortable around Felix.Wendy shot her an apologetic glance.Under any other circumstances she would leave, but Peter was here, and now she had to prove a point:not everything normal was bad or mundane. 

Even if this particular instance was terribly dull. 

“I want to stay until the end,” Wendy said, silently promising that she would make it up to Tinkerbell later.The fairy groaned, then hugged herself.Wendy couldn’t figure out if she did it because she was cold, miserable, or both.Apparently, neither could Felix, because every so often he shot Tink a puzzled glance.A few seconds later, though, Peter would smile at him, and the Lost Boy became distracted again. 

Eventually, Wendy became so guilty she couldn’t bring herself to look at them anymore.Refusing to meet Peter’s gaze, she kept her own fixed on the dwarf players.Perhaps if she tried to focus on the game a little more- however excruciating boring it was -she could stop focusing on him.Or so she told herself for the next twenty minutes. 

It felt like ages had passed, but finally, the team jogged off the field.Half-time had arrived at last.Wendy turned to Tink, intent on whispering an apology.

Suddenly, the lights on the field died.Everything went black.

“...is this supposed to happen?” Peter inquired, his tone deadly. 

“No,” Felix answered.Wendy flinched as she heard the shriek of metal- the Lost Boy had drawn his switchblade.Pan released her a few seconds later, and she reached for Tink’s hand as she heard Pan withdraw his own dagger.They were wary, and that part alone scared Wendy more than anything else- because if they were wary, they hadn’t planned this. 

However, the lights came back on as fast as they’d switched off.They illuminated the lone object on the field:a body.Immediately, most of the crowd started to scream.Peter let loose a delighted laugh.Tink grabbed Wendy’s arm, and Wendy covered her mouth with her other hand, blinking back tears as she recognized the body:Tootles.

“Peter,” she said, practically sick, “What did you _do_?” 

“Wendy,” Peter replied, quite seriously, “I didn’t do anything.I was sitting next to you the whole time, watching this ‘game.’Though you’re right, Wendy.It _isn’t_ boring.It _does_ have everything I like.”


	16. You'll Never Know What Hit You

“Hello, Laddie.”

Rumplestiltskin didn’t turn around to acknowledge the very unwelcome guest in his shop.Instead, he said: 

“The sign says we’re closed.As I’m sure you read.”Calmly, he continued to polish the bronze lamp in his hands.He’d learned over the years that, as with most predators, it was better to mask any fear when around Peter Pan.

“And I’m sure you know that I’ve been waiting to say hello alone.Unless, of course, you’d like your lovely wife to be involved.” 

At those words, sharp as a razor blade, the Dark One let the piece fall to the floor with a clatter and spun to stand behind his counter.Pan leaned against a shelf by the door to the shop, arms crossed.His eyes glittered with cruel amusement. 

“I know this isn’t a social call, dearie,” the Dark One said, “so what is it, exactly, that you want?”He was attempting to sound lighthearted and carefree, but the reality was he anything but.Rumplestiltskin feared nothing- not while he had his dagger, anyway -save the being standing before him.He had faced him before- twice.The first time, Rumplestiltskin hadn’t won, but Pan had concluded the game early by granting him freedom.The second time, when he had last ventured to Neverland, he’d lost.He had no desire to do business with his old enemy again. 

Pan’s gaze narrowed, “I’m not anyone’s dearie, and you’d do well to remember that, _Laddie_ ,” he placed extra emphasis on the last word. 

Rumplestiltskin flinched, as if he had been struck by a whip, “What do you want?”The infernal boy had no reason to be in his shop unless he desired something- and if he was threatening Belle, he had to want it very badly.Or so Rumple told himself, clinging to what he’d remembered of Pan:unless one played his games, Pan left you alone.Belle had never been a player, and so she was safe. 

_But I played,_ Rumple thought with a shudder.

Peter strode towards the counter.Bending over the yellowing glass, he smirked: 

“I want to make a deal.” 

“I don’t make deals with the likes of you,” the Dark One replied instantly.It was perhaps the only time in his life he’d ever outright refused a deal.Deals gave him power, and power gave him safety and control.However, Peter Pan was just as old and clever as Rumple, and Rumplestiltskin suspected that Pan could spin a deal designed to give the Dark One authority to benefit himself. 

“I think you should.I have excellent terms for you,” the boy said.His voice was earnest, and he sounded innocent enough.Yet his eyes were dark and calculating.Wary, and unable to fathom what lay behind Pan’s gaze, Rumplestiltskin didn’t answer. 

As the silence dragged on, Pan smiled, then said: 

“You know that I’m here for the Heart of the Truest Believer.Although my life is no longer in danger, Neverland still requires the magic from the heart in order to heal.You lot did some...damage to it,” he paused, mouth twisting in dislike and determination, “I _will_ get the heart no matter what, but it will be far easier for me- and much better for you -if you don’t stand in my way.” 

“Why shouldn’t I?I’ve finally got Bae’s forgiveness.I won’t risk losing that by letting you kill Henry,” the Dark One retaliated.All he had ever wanted was Bae, and now that Bae was finally back in his life, and willing to at least speak with him, he wouldn’t trade it for any possibility with the demon boy in his shop. 

“You and I both know, Laddie, that you’re always out for yourself, and for power,” Pan replied, shrugging, “I don’t judge you for it.You’ve made something of yourself- one of the few who’s actually become better as a grown-up than as a child,” he smiled again, then almost whispered, “and I think you will keep going after power.In fact, I’m _sure of it._ ”He stared at Rumplestiltskin, daring him to say otherwise, though both of them knew he couldn’t.Power had always been Rumplestiltskin’s weakness, because he saw it as a way to safety:the most precious thing any coward could acquire.For the Dark One, who had maimed himself to escape military service, nothing was too outlandish for him to escape danger.And Pan was one of the very few who actually presented realistic danger to him. 

Peter grinned, pleased at being considered a worthy opponent, “So this is what I offer:let me have the heart.I take it, and my followers, back to Neverland and save the island.You, meanwhile, can go back to the Enchanted Forest with Belle and Bae; rule the entire land as you see fit,” Pan breathed, “Consider it, Laddie.You will be the most powerful being in that realm, and you can start over with your son.”

“And Henry?” the Dark One inquired. 

“You know what will happen when I take his heart.” 

“But Bae-”

“What you need to do, Laddie, is think of yourself.If I take the heart, Henry won’t be a problem anymore.With him dead, you’ll never have to worry about that nasty little prophecy.And if Baelfire sees you try _so hard_ to save him from me- but regrettably fail, of course -he won’t blame you,” Pan pointed out, “After all, I’d be the one that killed him.You and I could put on quite the show for Bae; he’d never know you helped in your grandson’s demise.” 

“How can you promise that?”Rumplestiltskin demanded.Although he hated to admit it, Pan’s proposition was tempting.He would be incredibly powerful, and Belle and Bae would be with him.They’d all be safe, forever.It was like a dream- to go home to the Enchanted Forest, rule the land, have those he loved by his side.To never have to worry about losing his power to a child.But that same child meant so much to Bae...he grimaced. 

Peter, recognizing Rumple’s dilemma, reminded him, “I defied death. I cross realms- you know I do.You think I can’t open the way for you and yours?All it takes is me- and a bit of pixie dust, of course,” he amended.It was critical for Rumple to believe him.He _had_ to.While it was true he could still win if Rumple tried to fight him, it would make things infinitely...messier.And he knew Wendy didn’t like things to be messy. 

“What do you say, Laddie?” Pan asked, hoping to get an answer now, though he knew he most likely wouldn’t.Just as he’d predicted, Rumplestiltskin replied: 

“I’ll need time to think about it.” 

“You always did,” Pan winked, “Let me know what you decide.You have a week.”He walked towards the door to the shop.He kicked it open, the bell chiming over his head.Peter was halfway out the door, but abruptly, he paused:

“Before I go, let me remind you what you’ve got here:a limp, a pawn shop, a son who still has trouble looking at you, and a potential threat to your life.How the Dark One has fallen!But you can rise again.If you stay out of my way.” 

Then he was gone, the door slamming shut after him. 

* * *

Pan entered the foyer of Regina’s old house- his new base.Immediately, boys ran to him, calling enthusiastic greetings to him.He grinned, acknowledging each of them- including the new ones -by name.Still, ever alert to his surroundings, he noticed two familiar faces lurking in the shadows by the stairs.Pan nodded to them, then indicated that they should enter what had been Regina’s office.Apprehensively, the boys did so. 

As soon as the doors had closed behind them, Pan began without preamble: 

“Slightly.Nibs.Is there anything you would like to share?” The teenager could guess what they were going to tell him.In fact, he’d known it for nearly a day, but it was important for the boys to admit it themselves.It was the last sign he needed to know they were absolutely loyal to him.This kind of honesty would ensure they could never revert to the side of Storybrooke’s residents, because what they were about to say could get them locked up for life.

“Peter-” Slightly bit his lip, “First, before anything, I want you to know that I told Nibs.About your offer.” 

This had been obvious to Peter, and precisely what he’d intended Slightly to do, but he didn’t let on: 

“I didn’t extend that invitation to Nibs, Slightly,” he noted, playing with the dagger at his belt, “nor did I command you to.”Although Pan had wanted Slightly to persuade Nibs to return to the fold, he still needed to emphasize the importance of obeying him.He wouldn’t allow for rebellion any longer- last time, he’d almost died because of it. 

“I know, Peter,” Slightly replied, wringing his hands in his shirt, “but I know you want those of us who are loyal to you, and you gave me, an old friend, a chance to prove myself.You’ve known Nibs almost as long...and I thought you’d give him that chance to.”He looked up at his leader hopefully, praying he wasn’t wrong.He didn’t think he was- the Peter he had known and bonded with so long ago valued friendship above all else.He valued it so much he came back to this world to save friends who’d fallen on hard times, Slightly included.Whatever had happened, however much Peter had changed, Slightly felt, deep in his bones, that this integral part of Peter yet remained. 

Pan said nothing for a long moment, then asked, “And what, exactly, did you two do?”He looked from one boy to the other, curious which would reveal it first. 

Nibs took a deep breath, “We killed Tootles.”He closed his eyes, obviously trying to block out the shocked face of their friend as he’d drawn his knife. 

* * *

_“What are you doing?” Tootles’ eyes were bright with fear.Nibs said nothing, heart pounding.Instead, he approached Tootles slowly, struggling to keep his hand from trembling.“Tootles-” he began, but the words died in his throat.Slightly appeared from the darkness beneath the bleachers, thin wire suspended between his hands.Tootles, noticing where Nibs was looking, spun around to see Slightly closing in.He went to run away, but Slightly stopped him with a swift kick to the knees.Popcorn flew to the ground, the box Tootles had been holding tumbling into the dirt.Kernels crunched beneath his knees, the sound a disquieting reminder of cracking bones.Felix loved the sound, but Nibs had always hated it.He liked fighting, and even occasionally death, but he preferred it to be quick, swift, and neat.Blood, if any debris left behind, but usually there wasn’t (his aim, both with a slingshot and with bow and arrow, was excellent).His prey died immediately.This- with a knife (the only weapon he’d been able to acquire and hide in this world) -and his friend...it would be different.He shivered._

_“You said we were going to watch the football game!” Tootles said plaintively.He cast an accusing glare at Nibs, though beneath the accusation there was also a healthy dose of betrayal and pure, unadulterated terror.Nevertheless, like any animal frightened for its life, Tootles fought back.He moved to the side, desperate to get to his feet, but this time Nibs found it was him who tackled Tootles back to the ground.His conscience screaming in his ears, Nibs drove Tootles into the shadows, where no one would see where that they would about to do, and no one would hear Tootles cries.The sounds would blend in with the raucous cheers of the crowd.It was a brilliant plan, actually, one that Peter no doubt would have been proud of- would be proud of._

_“_ **_I_ ** _said,” Slightly huffed, trying to get a grip on Tootles, “that Pan offered us a truce-”_

_“-if we all_ **murdered** _people!” Tootles replied.He rolled back and forth, bucking upwards.One of his fists made contact with Nibs’ chin, and stunned, the other Lost Boy staggered backwards.Tootles took advantage of the opening to stand up, reminding them:_

_“And do you honestly think that will last?You_ **_trust_ ** _him, after what he did to James?And Robert?We were supposed to be a family!You don’t_ **_kill family_ ** _!”_

_“That’s what they tried to do, Tootles,” Slightly pointed out, “They tried to kill Pan.”His face was grave.Admittedly, First and Second Twin hadn’t actually done the deed themselves, but in a way, that made it worse.Pan had plucked them from horrible lives and granted them eternity, and they couldn’t even give him the courtesy of death face-to-face._

_“After Pan tried to kill Henry!After he’d already hurt so many people!” Tootles contended, hoping against hope for his friends to see the truth in his statement.Wildly, he glanced back and forth at Slightly and Nibs, waiting for them to put their weapons down._

_“They broke the rules,” Nibs said numbly, the words hardly convincing even to his own ears, “and they suffered the consequences.Pan gave us a second chance, and you said no.”_

_“I said I trusted Emma more.I said that they beat him once, and I think they can beat him again.And you- you agreed,” at once, Tootles’s eyes widened again as he realized the awful truth, “You- you lied.”_

_“Yes,” Slightly confirmed.He sounded shameless, though Nibs knew that deep down, he had to feel as terrible as Nibs did.Slightly was a superb actor, but he also had a strict moral compass._

_“And I’m the one you decided to kill,” Tootles said it as though it were fact.He wasn’t searching for a corroboration.He knew it, and he understood.Slightly and Nibs had been testing him earlier, trying to measure his fidelity to Pan.He’d failed, immensely, and now he was going to pay the price for their absolution in blood._

_“Yes,” Slightly said again, the word hanging in the air._

_At that, Tootles bolted.Adrenaline, hatred, need, and revulsion surging through his veins together, like some heady elixir, Nibs ran after him.He threw himself on the boy, pinning Tootlesdown and holding his hands in front of him. Tootles couldn’t get away from them; this was their one chance.If Tootles escaped, he would jeopardize everything.Pan would likely murder them himself if they failed._

_“Don’t do this, please, you’re-” Tootles pleaded, but whatever he had been about to say morphed into a gasp.Slightly lunged behind him, throwing the wire around his throat and yanking tightly.The garrotte, though homemade, was effective.The light quickly faded from the former Lost Boy’s eyes, some blood splashing Nibs in the face.The body became heavy and slack in his arms, and Nibs struggled to think of it as just another kill; it was faceless, nameless, he hadn’t known him, not at all-_

_Just then, the field was plunged into darkness.That was the signal._

_“Come on,” Slightly urged him, “We’ve only got a minute before they figure out Curly tripped the lights-”_

_The two boys lifted Tootles’ limp body and ran through the blackness, out from beneath the bleachers and onto the field.Hurriedly, they tossed it into the grass.There was a sickening plop as it landed sideways, finally rolling to land facedown.The sight would have made Nibs vomit, but he didn’t have a long time to stare.Slightly practically dragged him off the field and into the woods as the lights switched back on and screams replaced cheers._

_In the safety of the trees just beyond the field, Slightly and Nibs let the blood run off their hands into the river.Both boys were silent for a long while._

_At last, Nibs said, “Do you regret it?I feel awful.”He was hoping for some kind of comfort, though he didn’t know what Slightly could say that could possibly make him feel better._

_“We’d both feel worse if Pan had killed us instead.It was a choice, and we chose ourselves and Pan,” Slightly said emphatically.He refused to meet Nibs’ tortured eyes.If he did, his own guilt would surface, and he couldn’t afford that._

_“What does that make us?” Nib asked.His own mind supplied a word:_ **_Murderers._ ** _Yet, as he faced his friend, Slightly only smiled sadly and declared:_

_“Lost Boys.”_

* * *

“You thought Tootles was a threat?” Peter pretended to scoff.He was curious how Slightly and Nibs had rationalized their choice, though he did agree that Tootles’ death had been a necessary one.He would have sold them out to the Storybrooke residents immediately, and Pan couldn’t have that.He had to save Neverland, and no one would stop him, let alone one incompetent Lost Boy. 

“He wasn’t at first.Hear us out,” Slightly entreated him, “I know you, Pan.You taught us brotherhood above all.You made us a family.We all know you want to create that family again.So, when you offered me the chance to prove myself, I wanted our brothers to have it too.I told them what you asked, Pan.Nibs, Curly, Gavin, and Fox agreed.Tootles didn’t.So, Nibs and I killed him.Gavin, Curly, and Fox are all here.They say they’ll strike down whomever you ask,” Slightly swallowed. 

“Curly already helped,” Nibs added, “We want your forgiveness, Peter.We want to be Lost Boys again.” 

“We’ll do anything,” Slightly agreed. 

Pan crossed his arms, gaze inscrutable.He kept his face neutral just long enough to make them squirm. Then, he smiled widely at them: 

“And _that_ is why I chose you.” 

The two Lost Boys let out a sigh of relief as they realized that they would live. 

* * *

_As the Shadow flew her to Neverland’s shores, Wendy held on tightly.She wouldn’t fall into the ocean this time- after the way they’d parted, she doubted Peter would save her.After all, it had been_ **just a game**. _Even now, her heart constricted at the words._

_Just a game._

_Just a game._

_Well, maybe she had been a game to Peter Pan, but what he’d done when he’d taken Baelfire from her wasn’t.Bae had become a part of her family, dear to her, and he’d sacrificed himself to protect her and her brothers.He’d shown her the kindness and protection Peter never had, because it was kindness that was real.She wouldn’t let Bae- who had proven himself to be her true white knight -bear the penalty for her stupidity._

_Shaking her head, Wendy kept her eyes on the approaching shoreline.She squinted, puzzled.Had the Shadow even brought her to the right realm?Neverland was a jungle, teeming with heat and flowers and palms touching the sky, the roars of great cats and the buzzing of a hundred insects creating a constant symphony.Yet this land- this land was_ **nothing** _like Neverland.It was cold, for one.White mist shrouded the island, and the sea, instead of being a crystalline blue, was a steely gray.Pines were where palms should have stood, the flowers were gone, and the only sounds- aside from the whistle of the wind -were the occasional cries of hawks overhead._

_“Wait-” Wendy said, but the Shadow had already released her.It disappeared into the trees, and she shrieked as she was slammed violently into the ground. She grimaced as gritty sand found its way under her fingernails, then saw the telltale streaks of blood on her elbow and knee.She’d cut herself on a rock.Silently, she cursed- though a lady should never curse -because this would ruin her plan to find Bae and make a run for it.It hurt enough that she doubted she could walk without a limp, and besides, without proper binding, she’d leave a trail of blood that would be easy for the Lost Boys to follow._

_Pan would find her, no matter what._

_“Wendy!?”_

_The girl looked up from the sand to see Rufio gaping at her.He was astonished by her appearance, and she was just as shocked at his.He was thinner than she remembered, his cheekbones more prominent.Yet at the same time, he was more muscled, as though he’d had to fight more than before.He wore different clothes as well- instead of the flamboyant red of which he’d been so fond, he now wore a darker ensemble, capped off by a black cloak._

_Staring at him, Wendy felt as though she had been dropped into an alternate reality.It was Rufio- undeniably Rufio -but if this was Rufio..._

_“What happened?” Wendy asked, “Rufio, what happened here?”_

_The Lost Boy- her favorite, aside from Tootles -did not even bend to help her up, as he once would have done immediately.Instead, he looked up nervously, then whispered:_

_“You shouldn’t be here.”_

_“What?” the girl’s forehead furrowed in confusion._

_“You shouldn’t have come back,” Rufio insisted._

_“I don’t plan on staying,” Wendy replied, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.Her instincts told her something wasn’t right, and that she needed to get out.Now._

_“I don’t think you’ll have much choice in the matter,” a familiar voice said.Peter landed gracefully before her, so Rufio was blocked from her view.He smiled at her, but there was no warmth in it:_

_“Hello, Bird.”_

_“Peter,” Wendy said, putting as much venom into her voice as she could, “Don’t worry.I’m not going to play a game this time.I just want Bae back.”She intended to spend as little time in Peter’s presence as possible.Her heart still ached from the wounds he’d inflicted upon it._

_At once, Pan’s green eyes narrowed into slits, “_ **Bae** _isn’t going anywhere.And neither are you, Wendy.”_

_“Peter, I’m not playing another game-”_

_“But you are, Wendy.You came back.And now the game is_ **never going to end** _.”_

_The smirk that accompanied Pan’s sinister promise made Wendy’s skin crawl.Peter, however, was apparently unaffected by the situation.He reached for her and pulled her to her feet.Despite herself, Wendy stumbled.Peter raised an eyebrow:_

_“Hurt your wing, Bird?”Wendy ignored the jab, then tried to shake his arm off her.He released her, but he stayed close enough to her to see her every movement.Peter noticed the vein at her neck was pulsing wildly.She was nervous- angry, but nervous.The changes in Neverland had disconcerted her, and she was, mystified, yet terrified by, his vow of a never-ending game._

Good, _Peter thought, a jolt of pleasure rushing through him._ She should be nervous.

_“I’m not going with you,” Wendy announced, as if she had any control over it. Peter resisted the urge to laugh.Instead, he inquired, his voice filled with mocking concern:_

_“But don’t you want to see Bae?He’s a Lost Boy now.”_

_Wendy’s eyes widened, “No.Never.Bae’s not lost-”_

_“He’s always been lost,” Felix drawled, melting out of the trees, “He was_ **born** _lost.You could say it runs in the family.”He grinned, and Peter let out a dark chuckle.Wendy had the discomfiting sense that there was a joke that she wasn’t privy to.She cast a glance at Rufio, but he said nothing.Why wasn’t he saying anything?_ **He** _was Pan’s second, not Felix.Unless that had changed too?But how?_ **Why?**

_“What happened to Neverland?” Wendy asked again, this time resolved to get an answer.Rufio shot her a warning glance, shaking his head, but Felix’s smirk grew bigger.Pan raised an eyebrow again, and he explained:_

_“You happened, Wendy.You changed the game when you arrived, don’t you remember?And then the game changed when you left.”He gestured to the forest around them, and involuntarily, Wendy shivered.Did he really mean that?Was_ **she** _the cause of the startling, chilling, drastic changes to the land she’d loved?Was it still the land of children’s dreams now, or had she made it into a land of nightmares?_

_“It’s not...right like this.You should change it back,” she retorted, desperate to gain any leverage she could.Pan despised it when anyone insulted his creation._

_Peter smirked, “But I_ **am** _changing it back.You’re here now, and you’re_ **never** _leaving again.”With that, he began to stride into the forest.Wendy stayed where she was, adamant that she would not follow._

_Felix glanced sideways at her and said, “It would be wise of you to start walking, Wendy.Unless you’d like to go swimming to camp?”_

_The Lost Boys’ camp moved around the island periodically.They did it mostly to stay out of range of the pirates and the Indians.While they had a few preferred spots, it was never in the same place for more than a day- sometimes even for more than an hour.Wendy didn’t recall them ever camping by the Mermaids’ Lagoon, but since things seemed so strange, maybe they did now.At the mention of her longtime fear, and the alarming possibility that she’d be reunited with bloodthirsty mermaids so soon, Wendy’s face grew white._

_Felix laughed at her reaction, “I didn’t think you would.Now, walk.”He waited, but Wendy stood stock still.Even had she wanted to, she couldn’t walk comfortably.And if Peter was determined to parade her back into camp like some sort of victory prize,_ **she** _was determined to enter regally and with grace.She couldn’t do that with her injuries._

_His grin fading at her defiance, Felix narrowed his eyes.He flicked his hand towards Rufio.Obediently, the Lost Boy came forward.He gently took one of Wendy’s arms and laid it over his shoulder, then used his other arm to support her waist._

_Realizing that something was deathly wrong if Rufio was obeying_ **Felix** _without any of his trademark rebelliousness, Wendy swallowed the lump in her throat and allowed him to help her walk in what must have been the direction of camp.Felix, apparently satisfied at their progress, moved ahead to walk directly behind Pan._

_Hoping he was out of earshot, Wendy whispered, “Rufio, please, tell me._ **What happened?** ”

_“Exactly what Pan said,” Rufio whispered back, “When you left, everything changed.The land changed.The Lost Boys changed.Peter changed...” he trailed off.Rufio bit his lip, as if he wanted to say more, but dared not._

_“Are you really so afraid to tell me?” the girl asked._

_Rufio paused.After a moment he murmured, “Yes.”_


	17. I Only Know Hell is Getting Hotter; the Devil's Getting Smarter All the Time

_Despite Felix’s taunts, the Lost Boys’ camp was not by the Mermaids’ Lagoon.It was set up on a hill, guarded by groves of Dreamshade.Much to Wendy’s surprise, instead of entering the camp and showing off his prisoner, Peter halted their little group just before the rows of tents.He jerked his head towards the camp, and Felix immediately went to sit by the fire in the center.He looked eerie, the orange flames lighting up his scar.Other Lost Boys were there, but their faces were obscured by cloaks.It seemed that everyone had forsaken the bright colors that had distinguished them before.They were quiet, only a few calling a hello to Felix._

_Rufio, meanwhile, was still the only means holding Wendy up.Peter turned to look at them, then said:_

_“Tell the Boys to go to bed, Rufio.You can stand first watch.The dirt’s no place for a girl to sleep.”_

_To Wendy, it seemed as though Rufio held onto her a second longer than necessary.He gave her a barely perceptible squeeze of the hand before stepping backwards, letting Pan come forwards and encircle her in his arms.Wendy stood frozen, not sure whether she wanted to run into camp screaming for Bae, or whether she wanted Peter to dance with her again._

No, _she reminded herself,_ It was just a game.This is Peter.This is the _real_ Peter.

_As if he could read her thoughts, Pan frowned.Without another word, he scooped her up, then took off into the sky.Instinctively, Wendy clung to him, her hands tight around his neck.They seemed to go impossibly high, almost as if they would touch the moon.Despite herself, she couldn’t help but look at Neverland’s stars.She recognized none of them- the patterns had changed.Like so much else, apparently._

_Wendy looked everywhere but at Peter, though the Neverland landscape was shrouded in mist.Darkness had descended since her arrival, and she thought she saw a wisp of smoke where the Indian camp should be, but she couldn’t be sure.The Jolly Roger lolled in its post.Wendy’s heart gave a pang.It seemed Hook hadn’t been able to escape.She realized now that Hook really_ **had** _wanted to escape.How long had he been here?How long had Bae been here?How long had it been at all, since Wendy had last touched Neverland’s shores?Time stood still here, and for the land to be so different- had she really been gone that long?_

_“If you’re looking for landmarks,” Peter said amicably, “I think you’d recognize your treehouse.”Carefully, he descended into the forest canopy, then set foot into what Wendy realized had to be her treehouse.Yet it too was different.Her lovely furniture- dreamt up by Peter as new -was now old and almost decrepit.The mirror over her dressing table was cracked, and her dainty white curtains were torn, a few strips waving in the wind.The pretty chandelier that had once graced the ceiling- she’d admired chandeliers so much, she’d seen them in real, grown-up ladies’ boudoirs, and oh, she had so wanted one that Peter managed to somehow put it in a treehouse -was shattered into a million pieces on the floor.Wendy gasped at the sight._

_For what seemed like the dozenth time that day, she asked, “What...happened here?”_

_Ignoring her question, Peter set her down on the bed.With a flick of his hands, the crystal shards disappeared, briefly winking in the moonlight before they were gone.Two lamps appeared on her bedside tables, giving off a low, golden glow._

_Realizing he wasn’t going to answer her, Wendy tried a new tactic:_

_“Why didn’t you fix my chandelier?”_

_Peter’s eyes flicked to the ceiling where the chandelier had been, then back to her.Involuntarily, Wendy shivered under his scrutiny._

_Evenly, he replied, “It’s not safe.Neverland has many storms now.”_

_“But leaving me in a treehouse_ **is** _safe_!? _” Wendy’s mouth hung open.It was a cardinal rule her mother had drilled into her:never stand beneath a tree during a storm.And if Neverland truly had storms now- which it very well might, judging by everything else she’d seen -putting her in her old treehouse was the least safe place she could be._

_“Lightning won’t strike here,” Pan said._

_“But how can you-”_

_Peter stared her down, “Trust me.It won’t.”Awkwardly, Wendy gulped.Peter had controlled the movements of the stars; was it really such a stretch to imagine he controlled the weather?But if he did, why would he pelt his beloved Neverland with hurricanes?_

_“If it rains so much,” she paused, “can I have real windows?With glass?”_

_Peter did as she asked, again still staring at her._

_Wendy tried not to blush at the intensity in his gaze, or the intimacy of the situation.She was a young lady of London, in bed, with a young man- for all his talk of being a boy, Peter really had never been a boy; he’d always looked like a teenager to her -alone with her.Even during her first time in Neverland, he’d never stood inside as she slept._

_“I suppose you realized that being grown-up,” Peter said, “isn’t worth it.”_

_“That’s not why I came back,” Wendy retorted, “Growing up doesn’t scare me.”_

_“It should.Nothing good happens when you grow up,” Peter informed her.He spoke as if from experience, but Wendy knew nothing of Peter’s background.He’d always been the prince of Neverland to her- though now she realized he was its dark king, not a handsome prince at all -but had he had a life before that?What had it been like?_

_Wendy shook her head,_ You’re here for Bae, _she reminded herself,_ Not Peter.It doesn’t matter.It’s another _game._ Don’t fall for it. _It was so easy to get drawn in by him, though..._

_“I don’t believe you,” Wendy said aloud, fully aware of just how powerful the words were here._

_Peter flinched, then repeated, “Nothing good happens when you grow up.”He glared at her, gripping the wrought iron bars at the base of her bed so tightly she thought he would break them._

_“Well, I want to grow up,” Wendy asserted. She wanted it more than anything now, because the older you grew the more memories you had.The more memories she had, the more experiences she would have to remember instead of Peter.Then, of course, it also helped that grown-ups couldn’t come to Neverland.Growing up would sever the ties between them forever._

_“You can’t grow up.Not here.”_

_“I can in London, and I will-”_

_“No,” Pan said, a strange emotion lingering behind his words, “You won’t.”_

_“Yes, I will,” Wendy insisted, unsure why they were even having this discussion.He’d made it very clear on her last visit that he didn’t want her in Neverland when their game had ended._

_“No, you won’t, Wendy.You will never go back to London!” Peter replied, his knuckles turning white against the iron._

_“Yes, I will, Peter!” Wendy declared, “I came back for Bae, and we’re going to leave.We’re going to go_ **home** , _to London, and we’ll grow up-”_

_Pan laughed, “Baelfire?Don’t concern yourself with him.You’ll never see him; you won’t leave with him-”_

_“You can’t stop me from finding him-”_

_“Do you know why it’s called Neverland, Wendy?” Pan interrupted, his eyes alight with a dark fire._

_“No,” she admitted, her voice soft._

_“Because once you’ve stepped foot on its soil,” Peter practically hissed at her, “My Shadow never lets you leave.”_

_“You let me go before,” Wendy whispered, “You sent me away.”_

_Pan cocked his head, “I’ve only ever done that once, with you.You changed the rules, but you can’t change them anymore, Wendy.You have to follow them now.Why do you think my Shadow went back?”_

_“For my brothers,” the girl said, “You thought I played the game wrong; boys had always understood you.And that would be the ultimate revenge on me...to take my brothers away.But then Bae left-”_

_“And my Shadow still returned.”_

_“It wanted one of my brothers, but I took its hand instead.I wanted to save Bae-”_

_At this, Pan chuckled, “Wendy, don’t forget the Shadow is_ **my** _Shadow.I’m not stupid, and neither is it.It went back for you, and it was always going back for you.Bae was a bonus prize, but the Shadow came for_ **you**.”

_Wendy, confused, said, “But why?”_

_“Because you stepped on Neverland’s soil, Wendy, and no one who does that can ever leave.When you did,” he gestured out the window, “it caused some rather...drastic...changes.But as you’re back, the balance is restored now.”_

_“You’re saying that because I left, Neverland turned into_ **this**? _Because of that rule, and you broke it?”_

_“_ **_You_ ** _broke it,” Peter nearly snarled at her._

_Shocked by the change in his demeanor, Wendy scrambled back on the bed, her back against the cold iron bedposts._

_Almost as fast as he had grown enraged, the fury seemed to leave Peter.Like he had been possessed, and the demon spirit had departed, his body sagged._

_Calmly, he told her, “So you see, Wendy, you can never leave again.You will never grow up.You will never go to London.Neverland is your home now, and you will stay here forever.With me.”_

_Wendy’s heart practically stopped. Had it truly been her fault?Had her departure turned Neverland into this?Did she_ **have** _to stay here?Had she sold her soul by coming here at all?And by doing so, did she now have some kind of responsibility to the land?Was the land’s health tied to her spirit, her soul serving as some kind of sustenance for it?What was this, hell? And if Neverland was hell, was Peter the devil?_

_Thoughts raced through her head rapid-fire. Though she knew they could never be true, they still frightened her.The only coherent thought in her head was:_ Escape. _Terrified, she leapt to her feet and made a rush for the door._

_Faster than the eye could see, Peter disappeared from her view.He reappeared outside her treehouse, then slammed the door shut.Wendy collided with it, jiggling the lock. She practically threw her entire weight against the wooden door, which had become as strong as steel:_

_“Let me out!” she shrieked, “Peter,_ **_let me out!_ ** _”Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she continued to claw at the door handle.It was locked from the outside.Desperate, she went and checked the windows, the windows which she had asked be filled with glass.They too were locked tight.God, had she only known what he was going to do, she never would have asked for glass-_

_“PETER!” Wendy screamed, her cries getting lost among a new wind that shook the trees around hers.A storm was rapidly gathering, and she could see the telltale flashes of lightning in the distance._

_“I’m sorry, Wendy,” Peter said through the door, “but I have to protect Neverland.”_

_“Peter,_ please _,” Wendy’s screams morphed into a long sob._

_Outside, the boy shuddered, and rain began to pour, droplets dripping down the windows of the treehouse._

* * *

 

_The door to Wendy’s treehouse remained bolted for days.She found a small addition to her treehouse- a proper bathroom, even with a luxurious tub.Yet she wouldn’t let herself be distracted by it.Although it seemed Peter was hoping her anger would wane over time, if she was kept locked in there, the reality was anything but.All it did was make her more frantic to find Bae, and more desperate to get a way out of her treehouse._

_Every night, she had nightmares, each more frightening than the last.They started out as her trying to fly home, but falling into Neverland’s waters.She was pulled down into the depths by the mermaids, their nails clawing into her skin, Peter’s face blurring in the surface of the ocean as he laughed at her pain from above.Then they changed to her arriving at her nursery window.Frantic, she pulled at the [double panes?] struggling to get them open.When at last she did, John and Michael came to greet her.She smiled at them, so grateful to be there, but they glared at her with unabashed hatred._

_“You’re his now!” John yelled at her._

_“We can’t let you back in, Wendy,” Michael added, “You’re like him.You’ll kill us-”_

_“No!” Wendy protested, “No, that’s not true!I’d never hurt you-”_

_But her words fell on deaf ears as her brothers pushed her out the window, and she screamed as her body broke in the street below, her bones piercing through her skin before everything went black._

_Then- and perhaps this one, Wendy thought, was the worst of all -she made it out of Neverland.She flew home, and she made it to the window, and the window opened-_

_But no one was there.The nursery was empty, the house deserted. When a perplexed Wendy went to the neighbors to inquire after her parents, they gave her bizarre looks:_

_“George and Mary Darling?”_

_“And John and Michael,” Wendy added hopefully._

_“Do you know what year it is?” they asked her._

_Wendy paused, heart pounding, “1902?”As the neighbors stared at her, aghast, she realized that she’d forgotten something crucial:_

_Time passed so very differently in Neverland.It stood still.How many years had passed in this world?_

_Instead of answering her, the man took her arm and led her down the road.He guided her to a church, then gestured for her to walk through a side gate.Wendy wasn’t sure why, for this had been a pretty park her parents liked to take her to._

_She forced herself not to wretch as she realized it had become a graveyard, and right in front of her were the graves of her parents and her brothers._

_Next to her brothers’ grave, there was another marker:_

_WENDY MOIRA ANGELA DARLING_

_FILIA PERDIDIMUS_

_ANIMA PERDIDO_

_Wendy’s hands flew to her mouth as she choked her on her tears.Her parents had given her her own empty grave, her epithet reading:_

_WENDY MOIRA ANGELA DARLING_

_THE DAUGHTER WE LOST_

_LOST SOUL_

_She always woke up screaming after that one._

* * *

_Though Wendy didn’t know it, Peter watched her during these times.Her face was slick with sweat and tears, and she tossed and turned in the bed, moaning and crying.She’d done this for_ days. _It killed him to see her like this.Though she didn’t know it, he often stood guard outside her treehouse.He heard her sobbing every night._

 

_One night, Peter couldn't bear to stand outside anymore. Quietly, he opened the latch to her treehouse and tiptoed in. Wendy didn't hear him anyhow. She was thrashing among the sheets, sobbing so hard she'd run out of tears. Peter didn't know what to do to help her- he figured if he even tried to wake her up she'd hit him. Unwilling to deal with that prospect, but equally unwilling to leave her in such distress, he decided to try something he never thought he would._

_Carefully, he slid into her bed, wrapping his arms around her.At his touch, she seized up, then quickly relaxed, her body curling into a fetal position.Not quite sure what he’d done that calmed her so quickly- but fully aware that if he left whatever he’d done would be reversed and her nightmares would return -he resolved to stay.Accordingly, he moved closer so her back was pressed against his chest.He laced his hands together, wrapping himself around and against his Bird, giving her the cage and protection she seemed to need._

_Then he too fell asleep._

 

* * *

 

The day after the football game, students were more subdued in school.Classes were quieter.Teachers were rattled, but struggled to continue lessons.Wendy found herself torn between wanting to cry and wanting to think about anything but Tootles’ death.She was slumped in her chair, pencil poised over her notebook.Unfortunately, she was only able to make incoherent scribbles. 

This was largely because Peter Pan was sitting behind her.

Much to her dismay, Storybrooke High had eventually decided that it was best to keep all the Neverlanders in the same class.The theory was that if Peter and Felix were together, Pan couldn’t send Felix slinking off to do his bidding, even if that bidding was innocuous, and that if Wendy and Tinkerbell were together in the same room, they would be safer- not that Pan _could_ harm anyone in the daytime, but if anyone had a way of getting using rules to his advantage, it was him.They were hoping he couldn’t do anything, but just in case, it was better to have them all in one place- where Tinkerbell and Wendy could be protected, and simultaneously, Peter Pan and Felix could be contained. 

This was also the major reason Mary Margaret had been promoted from first grade teacher to high school instructor.She was very skilled with a bow and arrow- almost as lethal as the Lost Boys -and she now wore it with her everywhere.Today, she had it slung over her pink sweater as she wrote algebra problems on the chalkboard.It was a strange contradiction, but then again, everything had been strange since Peter had arrived. 

Peter himself seemed bored by the whole lesson.He let his legs rest on the back of Wendy’s chair, occasionally amusing himself by pushing her books out of the little basket beneath her desk.The first time, she’d given him the benefit of the doubt and thought it was an accident.By the fourth time, she realized he was doing it to keep himself entertained.Despite claiming he wanted to go to high school, he clearly wasn’t interested in learning very much. 

Just then, her agenda smacked into the linoleum floor.Cheeks burning, Wendy reached down yet again to retrieve it.She wasn’t sure what else to do with it- her very small desk was already covered in her algebra textbook, notebook, and pencils -and obviously putting it back in the basket was only tempting Peter.Sighing, she delicately placed the agenda on her lap, crossing her legs in hopes it wouldn’t fall to the floor. 

Mary Margaret spun around, “Mr. Pan!”She crossed her arms and glared at him, her bow threatening to slide off her shoulder. 

At her outburst, Peter raised an eyebrow, “Yes, Madam Teacher?”He leaned lazily back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. 

“I think Miss Darling would appreciate it if you let her listen to the lesson in peace,” her words were like ice.Instantly, Wendy felt all eyes in the classroom flock to her, and she struggled to keep the blush from spreading up her cheeks. 

“And _I_ would appreciate it if you at least pretended to pay attention,” the teacher added. 

At that, both of Peter’s eyebrows shot up, “I normally never refuse to play pretend, Madam Teacher, but even I couldn’t pretend to listen to this.”Owen Dodge- who was now calling himself Dodger and seated behind Peter -snickered.Felix let out a small smile, though he didn’t laugh.Gavin, another Lost Boy, also let out a chuckle. 

Rapidly growing more furious with every laugh that floated about the room, almost ghostly in their quiet, Mary Margaret turned red.Wendy could practically see the wheels turning in Mary Margaret’s head as she pondered what to do to put Pan in his place.Finally, she smiled, and pronounced: 

“Very well, Mr. Pan.If you won’t listen to the lesson, perhaps you can teach us.”She triumphantly picked up a piece of chalk and scribbled a problem on the board. 

 

2x^3 - 3x squared + tx + r = 0 

 

“This is an equation that has three roots,” Mary Margaret explained, “Two of them are -2 and 3.Now, Mr. Pan, show us how to find the 3rd root.” 

Before she had even turned around, Peter was already at the front of the room.He removed the chalk from Mary Margaret’s hand, and without a word, immediately said: 

“To solve this, you need to substitute one of the roots for x.We’ll start with 3.” 

54 -27 + 3t + r = 0

 

“Now substitute -2 for x.” 

-16 - 12 -2t + r = 0. 

Peter calmly wrote as he went along, explaining the problem simply and shockingly, without a trace of smugness in his tone.The scratchy, angular writing with which Wendy had become intimately familiar over the past few weeks overtook the board, completely blocking out Mary Margaret’s curly letters. 

 

27 + 3t +r = 0

 

-28 -2t +r = 0

 

55 + 5t = 0

 

t = -11

r = 6 

 

He noted each step as he wrote it down, and as each number took shape, Wendy saw Mary Margaret’s face go from a furious red to a stunned white.She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.Peter Pan was doing _algebra,_ as calmly and confidently as though he’d done it his entire life.Felix and Gavin, meanwhile, were grinning.Pan had never taught algebra in Neverland, of course- it was hardly fun -but they weren’t surprised he could do it.After all, he was Peter Pan.Peter Pan never failed.He could do anything. 

 

2x^3 - 3x squared -11x + 6 = 0 

 

(x-3)(x+2)(2x-1) = 0. 

 

Pan finished with a flourish, “That gives you x = 1/2.” 

There was dead silence as he handed the chalk back to Mary Margaret and returned to his desk.He slid into the seat, immediately returning to the position he’d been in before- leaned back, arms crossed behind his head.Wendy could feel his gaze on her, burning like a flame, but she refused to turn around.Everyone else was staring at him, but she wouldn’t.She wasn’t awed by him. 

Neither was Mary Margaret, apparently.She looked stunned and disturbed, but she wasn’t in awe of his prowess.More of the students in the room gave Pan admiring glances, but Mary Margaret simply narrowed her eyes and erased Pan’s problem. 

Then she went on with the lesson as though nothing had happened. 

* * *

“So is anyone going to acknowledge what happened last night?” Regina demanded.It was lunchtime, and Mary Margaret, Emma, Hook, and David were gathered in the principal’s office.Since Regina had lost her mansion to Pan, she had also lost her main office.In the meantime, this was where she had been conducting the majority of her affairs.Admittedly, she was hardly pleased that her marble had been replaced by linoleum, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter.

“Regina,” David began, “A boy died yesterday, you don’t need to mock it.”He looked at her reproachfully, which didn’t surprise her at all.He was a Charming, and their sole purposes in life seemed to be judging her and ruining her happiness.How appropriate, considering Emma was his daughter, and Henry would never have even met that wretched Peter Pan had she not come to Storybrooke and broken the curse.Nevertheless, she reminded herself, there was no changing that now, and no use blaming Emma for the sins of the Neverland king. 

“A boy died,” Regina repeated incredulously, “He didn’t just _die._ He was murdered by Pan.And I want to know how.” 

“He was sitting in the stands,” Mary Margaret said, “Believe me, Regina- I hate him as much as you do.Aside from what he wants to do with Henry, he just humiliated me in front of my entire class.But there were hundreds of witnesses there.Peter never moved.He was sitting with Wendy Darling, Felix, and Tinkerbell-” she ticked the names off one by one on her fingers. 

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t have something to do with it,” Hook interjected, “Pan likes to murder people.Pain is entertainment for him, and he has a flair for dramatics.I’d be shocked if he didn’t mastermind this.” 

“‘Mastermind?’” Emma queried, “What, you’re saying he directed someone to kill Tootles, then put his body on the football field?Sorry, Hook.He might be dramatic, but the person he’d normally direct to kill people was sitting right next to him.”She brushed off her boyfriend’s suggestion immediately, and the pirate was blatantly annoyed.He had done battle with Pan for years; he knew far more about Pan than Emma could ever imagine.Frustrated, he asked:

“Have you considered the fact that it might not be just Felix who would kill for Pan?” 

“You mean like other Lost Boys?” Emma shook her head, “They all wanted to leave Pan!”That was how she’d even found out Pan was near his Thinking Tree in Neverland to begin with.A lonely Lost Boy had revealed the secret to her in exchange for passage to Storybrooke. 

“Not all of them,” Hook pointed out.He met Regina’s gaze.Although he was reluctant, Regina could see that someone was at last coming around to her point of view. 

“Finally!” she exclaimed, feeling somewhat vindicated, “One of you is talking sense.” 

“But if they wanted to leave,” Mary Margaret interjected, completely ignoring Regina’s outburst, “why would they help Pan now?”

“Because they fear Pan more than they fear you,” Hook noted, “I’m sorry, but you need to accept that Pan is more terrifying to these Boys than you.He was practically their bloody god for hundreds of years, and now he’s back from the dead.They’ll do anything for him.In a way, they’re more dangerous than him, because he thinks through every decision.They will just do whatever he says.” 

“There has to be a way to get them to come back to our side,” Mary Margaret proclaimed. 

After a long moment, Regina said, “I have an idea.” 

* * *

_When Wendy awoke the next morning, she was pleasantly surprised by the warmth around her.Eyes still closed, she snuggled closer, expecting to feel blankets wrapped around her.Then she felt a quiet breath on her neck._

_Her eyes sprang open, and utterly terrified, she realized that she wasn’t in blankets, but rather in someone’s embrace.Worse, she realized as she rolled over, that embrace was Peter Pan’s.He was still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with an easy calm.Perhaps feeling that Wendy had changed positions, he adjusted one of his arms so that he brought her closer to him.The tiny movement of his hand on the back of her nightgown sent sparks running down her skin._

_That contact was too much for her.Shrieking, she kicked the boy- hard.He practically fell off the bed, stunned and a bit dazed.Nevertheless, Peter clambered to his feet and demanded:_

_“Wendy, what was_ **that** _for?” He didn’t look away from her, though he did reach a hand down to rub his leg.With a smug sense of satisfaction, Wendy noticed part of his knee was beginning to turn blue.It would bruise, and she couldn’t help but feel a bruise was the least she could do to repay him for all the horrible things he’d done to her._

_“You were in my bed!” Wendy retorted, “What were you even trying to do?You’ve already imprisoned me!Are you really going to play games with my heart again?Because it’s not funny, Peter.I won’t let you-”_

_“You were having a nightmare,” Pan interrupted her.He stood to his full height and stared at her, intense green eyes staring into her own blue.There wasn’t any malice in his voice, just a quiet challenge._

_Flustered, Wendy said, “I’m sure it was brought on by you in my bed.”Though of course she knew it wasn’t.She’d had no idea Peter was even there until a few moments ago.She couldn’t help but squirm as she realized she could remember only one nightmare from the previous evening.Typically, she had at least five, more or less repeating each other in a continuous, cruel cycle.But last night, she’d only had one- and the rest of the night, she hadn’t dreamed at all._

_What did that mean?_

_“You were screaming,” Peter explained, “and crying, and it was so loud the whole island could hear it.”Though it had been true Wendy’s shouting had been loud, it hadn’t nearly been so powerful as to rouse the entire land (or even the Boys in camp).He just didn’t want her to know he’d been listening outside her treehouse:_

_“You woke me up, and I came to see what exactly was going on.That’s how I found you.”He gestured to the bed, sheets rumpled in a ball.He wasn’t fighting her, or even berating her for her attitude, and that unsettled Wendy most of all.Trying to hold on to what she knew of him, and his horrible, selfish, ways she sneered:_

_“You expect me to believe you heard me having a nightmare, and you came to_ **help**? _” she laughed.It was so out of character for him that she couldn’t even imagine him doing it.The Peter Pan she knew would mock someone for having a nightmare, and he’d be thrilled to know he featured in it.He wouldn’t take pity on them._

_Pan’s eyes hardened, but he simply replied, “You’re not the first person I’ve helped with nightmares.”_

_“What are you talking about?” she inquired, “I never saw you do anything with the Lost Boys when they had nightmares.”The Lost Boys occasionally had nightmares during her first visit to the island.Some of the little ones would wake in the night and cry that they missed their mothers.Wendy always came to hug them and comfort them, promising them she would stay at their bedsides and hold their hands until they fell back to sleep (and she always did).Peter, however, would merely sit and watch from his pallet. She’d once asked him why he didn’t take them back, if they missed their mothers so badly.He’d told her that he never would have taken boys so young to Neverland that they were barely seven unless he’d had no choice.When she’d pressed him further on the subject, he’d told her their mothers were dead, and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take those boys back.Shaking her head, Wendy returned to the present moment, and was stunned by Peter’s answer._

_“That’s because it wasn’t here.Neverland is my home, but I wasn’t born here.No human can be born here, except the Indians,” he asserted, “because they were part of the island when I dreamed it up.Everyone else comes from other worlds, including me.”Peter looked sideways at her, as if gauging whether she remained furious with him.Wendy shifted from one foot to the other, favoring her hurt leg. Her white nightgown was wrinkled- a result of her been held in his arms the whole night -and her arms were crossed defensively over her chest.The girl continued to appear angry, but also curious.Peter forced a smile down.The world could be crashing down around her and Wendy Darling would always be curious._

_Partly to distract her and partly because he himself was wondering what her reaction would be, he continued, “Officially, in your world, I went missing.It was a big scandal- one of the greatest boys’ schools in England losing a pupil-”_

_Wendy’s brow furrowed.A few years ago, her father had mentioned something of the sort to her mother.George Darling was a bank clerk, but a bank clerk with incredibly high aspirations.He was forever in search of a promotion, and so he made it his top interest to be close with the bank’s top manager.The bank manager, of course, dealt with the very best of society, and so knew all of its important figures incredibly well.Meanwhile, George absorbed the manager’s knowledge of society’s major players._

_“I’m telling you, Mary,” he’d said to her mother as they walked upstairs after dinner, “It’s incredible!The boy’s gone!Vanished without a trace!” Wendy, who was twelve at the time, and John, who was ten, trailed after their parents (Michael was five and had been made to eat his dinner on the nursery for naughty behavior earlier in the day).John had been talking about how a girl possibly couldn’t defeat a pirate, and Wendy was fiercely debating him on the subject.She heard her parents’ conversation, but it hadn’t sunken in or been her priority._

_“His poor mother,” Mary had answered, clucking her tongue, “I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” turning to her children, she skillfully interrupted their argument, “Wendy, would you go with Nana and fetch Michael?It’s bath time.”_

_As a stubborn Wendy stomped up the stairs, her father’s words trailed after her, “Losing Lord Ponsoby’s son?Eton will never recover!”_

_Thoroughly astonished, Wendy whispered, “You were the boy who went missing from Eton.”Her mouth dropped open, and she looked Peter up and down, trying to fathom how a nobleman’s child had gone from dressing in the coat and tails of Eton to the leaves and leather of Neverland._

_Peter, for his part, neither confirmed nor denied her accusation.Instead, he shrugged and repeated, “You’re not the first person I’ve helped with nightmares.The difference is I could shake them awake and they’d be fine.You wouldn’t stop screaming until I held you while you slept.”_

_“Peter,” Wendy reached for him, unsure what she wanted to hear more about- his past, how he’d come to Neverland, or whether he’d actually held her all night -but the boy stepped backwards and out of range.He bowed formally to her, then opened the door to her treehouse and left._

_Wendy rushed towards it, “Peter, wait!”_

_But the door closed in her face, and he was gone._

* * *

 

“You can sit down,” Regina offered, gesturing towards the chair in front of the desk.Her visitor, however, merely smiled at her and demurred: 

“I’d like to stand.” 

Regina, annoyed, didn’t return his smile.She said: 

“And I would like you to tell me _everything_ you know about Peter Pan.” 

The shaggy-haired boy before her laughed, “ You think it will be that easy?Get me in this office and command me to tell you about Pan?” he narrowed his eyes at her, “I don’t take orders from you.” 

“You’d rather take orders from a homicidal maniac who kills his friends and then makes it a halftime show?” Regina snorted, “I didn’t think you were that stupid.”Her dark eyes fixated on the boy’s gray, and she waited for him to snarl a retort, but he calmly drawled: 

“Pan was with me during the game.He didn’t kill Tootles.” 

“And Robert and James?Oh, sorry,” Regina amended, voice dripping with sarcasm, “You knew them as the Twins.They just happened to cut their own throats, and Pan lied that he did it?” 

The boy shrugged, “He killed them.He didn’t kill Tootles.Other than that, I don’t know what else you want me to tell you.” He went for the door and just barely opened it, his hand falling from the knob as he heard the former Evil Queen’s chair scrape against the floor. 

“I want you to tell me Pan’s plan, who he was, who he is, what his powers are, and what he’s hiding,” she practically hissed. She went to face him, and though he towered over her, she wasn’t intimidated by his size.She’d fought against worse than him. 

For his part, the boy seemed amused now, “It didn’t work in Neverland.It won’t work now.I already told you, I don’t take orders from you.” 

At his words, Regina’s smiled darkly, then plunged her hand into the boy’s chest.She seized Felix’s heart, squeezing it just enough to get a few wheezes and gasps from him before she pulled it from his chest. She smirked and pronounced: 

“Now you do.” 


	18. Somewhere in this dying day as I plan my great escape, I find it hard to concentrate while you maintain control

_Neither Wendy nor Peter spoke about the night where he’d held her to stop her nightmares.Both were furious and ashamed, though for different reasons.Wendy was furious that he presumed he could just_ **go** _into her bed in the first place, that he could_ ** _hold_** _her like he cared about her when he’d imprisoned her not only on the island, but in her treehouse.She was ashamed that- and this was worse -he’d actually helped.Since then, he hadn’t held her in the darkness, and her nightmares had returned.How could he, the physical personification who had been so horrible to her, stop the nightmares?_

_Peter, for his part, was furious that Wendy thought him incapable of helping her.He was Peter Pan!Of course he could help.He could do anything- and did she truly not realize that she kept having nightmares without him there?Or, if she did realize it, was she really so upset with him as to not want his help?She’d rather scream and cry than accept him?The sheer stupidity of her pride; her refusal of his aid angered him.He was ashamed, though, not only at her refusal, but that her refusal actually bothered him.He’d let a girl, little Wendy Darling, upset him.Embarrass him.Embarrass_ **him** _! He shouldn’t care, and yet he did, and the weakness infuriated him._

_When they did talk at all, it was when he brought food to the treehouse.He appeared with her dinner, every night.If the Lost Boys wondered at the absence of their leader each evening before they ate, he never said.Still, Peter sat with her, and all Wendy did was talk about Bae and London.She begged to see him, begged for Peter to free them, begged him to let them both go.She begged to speak to Bae, even if only for a moment, but Peter consistently refused._

_Nevertheless, he didn’t_ **_like_ ** _to refuse Wendy Darling.He never had enjoyed it, though he did have to do it.So he began wracking his brain for a way to solve the problem- to remove Bae from the equation and gain Wendy’s gratitude.And, of course, to keep Neverland safe, for that was always his ultimate aim._

_So it was that one night Wendy’s dinner appeared without Peter.She was confused by this, but accepted it as him being displeased with her.Peter, meanwhile, had gone to Skull Rock to talk with his Shadow.While it was true the Shadow was a part of him, ripped from his skin, the Shadow was also made up of the spirit of the island. It had helped him create Neverland; it had guided Peter in his protection of the island; the spirit’s merger with Peter’s own shadow had solidified his position as the Neverland’s king.Thus he sometimes consulted the Shadow- alone._

_“What do I need to do?” Peter asked the dark figure.His Shadow floated impassively before him, glowing eyes meeting his own frustrated green.It waited for Pan’s accusation, which came quickly:_

_“You told me that Wendy was needed here, for balance to be restored.” Peter had thought it would be that simple.If Wendy returned to the island, it would return to its former glory.Yet that hadn’t happened, and he was frustrated as to why it hadn’t worked._

_“She is,” the Shadow replied.Pan cut it off:_

_“‘None can step foot on Neverland’s soil and leave,’” he quoted the Shadow’s earlier words to him, “Not permanently.Not for long-”_

_“Neverland is sustained by a balance,” the Shadow explained, “It must always have at least one of whatever enters to continue to survive.When something new enters, the island recognizes it; it marks it; it absorbs part of it.” It waited for Peter, the cleverest of boys to ever exist, to grasp its meaning, but the significance eluded him as of yet._

_“One of whatever enters?” Peter queried, “What do you mean?” He crossed his arms, eyebrows furrowed._

_“You know you are tied to the island,” the Shadow stated, “The boy from the Land Without Magic who created it, the first to step on its shores.Wendy-”_

_“-is the first girl,” Peter finished, then protested, “but the Indians-”_

_“-were present on the island when you created it.They are part of the land, and though they don’t wish to leave, even if they did, so long as one remained, Neverland would be sustained.”_

_“But the fairies,” Peter raised his eyebrow, “Felix and I killed them all.You said_ **_nothing_ ** _about that!”In his way, he felt a bit betrayed by the Shadow.It should have warned him about this- it should have_ **_told_ ** _him how the island was sustained.Neverland was built out of his dreams, and out of his imagination, but as such it was an amalgam of puzzle pieces.Every time a new piece was added, it couldn’t simply disappear.Yet the Shadow had allowed him to hack off an entire group of pieces without even a warning._

_“You didn’t kill Tinkerbell,” the Shadow pointed out, “and she remains.”Apparently, that was all it was going to offer in its defense._

_“So when Wendy left, because she was the only girl from the Land Without Magic, the island lost whatever it gained from her.But if another girl were to come, then she could leave,” Peter hypothesized, trying to ensure he understood the Shadow correctly._

_“Yes.”_

_“Then another girl must never come to Neverland,” Peter ruled, “I won’t have it.”Wendy Darling was never to depart from Neverland again, and if the island itself needed at least one girl from the Land Without Magic now, he wouldn’t allow another ever to come- for he would not let the Bird even have the possibility of escaping._

_The Shadow, had it possessed eyebrows, would have raised one at that comment, “You can decide that as you wish.Nevertheless, what I have told you about Neverland’s particular...needs...is true.”_

_“There are other boys here from the Enchanted Forest,” Peter said, a slow smile spreading across his face, “But if only one is needed for Neverland- then I can rid myself of Bae.”_

_“Easily,” the Shadow confirmed, “Simply send him away.”_

_“But Wendy would never stop trying to escape, even if-” Peter paused, “Unless...” He smirked at the Shadow, finally understanding how he could get everything he wanted._

* * *

Tinkerbell sat in the living room, a book perched on her lap.While Wendy was determined to continue on with her schoolwork as if nothing had happened, Tink couldn’t bring herself to do it.She only spent her time in school to give herself some measure of safety from Pan.While Tink gave Wendy privacy to do the homework they were assigned, the fairy had decided to read the book supposedly based on their world.She’d been disgusted with how innocent and happy the author had made Neverland seem, how Peter was portrayed as a hero.Now, incredulous, she wasn’t even reading it anymore. 

She was startled out of her annoyance by the creak of one of the living room doors opening.Felix walked in and smiled at her.For a moment, Tink found her heart starting to beat quickly, happiness flashing through her- if only for an instant.Then her instincts kicked in, and she became wary. Felix was always around now, but he usually stayed outside the house, guarding the perimeter as he stood permanent watch for Pan.He never smiled at her like that- he hadn’t for many years, and when he had smiled at her like that, it had been in Neverland.Felix despised her here, of that she was sure, and he would hardly be seeking out her company. 

“I think we should talk,” Felix said.Without further preamble, he sat next to her on the couch, very close to her.Resisting the old urge to move nearer to him, Tink asked: 

“Talk?” This sounded uncomfortably like a conversation about their relationship. 

“Yes.Talk,” Felix said, “I know Neverland seems like a long time ago-” He subtlyreached one of his hands out for hers. 

“We were there only a few months ago,” Tink said cautiously, taking her hand out of range. 

“-our Neverland, I mean,” Felix immediately corrected himself.He continued to smile at her, but Tink wasn’t convinced.Felix clearly wasn’t himself- he wasn’t speaking in his normal drawl, and however much she wished to hear him say sweet things to her, it couldn’t be real.His loyalty to Pan superseded everything. 

“Oh,” she answered at last, when she realized he’d been waiting for a response from her. 

“But I wanted to talk about when we go back.” 

“When we go back?” Tink narrowed her eyes at him.She couldn’t help but remember their last conversation about the subject matter, when Felix had made it very clear that Pan would never allow her back into Neverland- and that Felix knew she never would be back. 

“Yes,” the Lost Boy affirmed.

“When _we_ go back?” the fairy emphasized the pronoun to verify she had heard him correctly. 

“Yes. You know Pan wants to go back.You know he wants to take Wendy.You know he wants to get the Heart of the Truest Believer,” Felix asserted, gray eyes staring into her own with an earnestness that didn’t become him. 

Increasingly suspicious, Tink said, “You seem to be assuming I know an awful lot of things.”Chills prickled up her spine, the hair standing up on the back of her neck. 

“Well,” Felix shrugged, “That’s because you do.You knew how to beat Pan in Neverland. You betrayed him to the others.” He stared at her, as if daring her to say otherwise.

“So did other people,” Tink retorted.Warily, she started to stand up, “What’s the point of this, Felix?What do you want?What does Pan want?” The only reason Felix would be acting so out of character was if Pan had told him to- but what could Pan possibly gain by playing with her heart, and in such an obvious way?It seemed rather juvenile for Pan, and besides, he wasn’t even around to observe it.There had to be something else. 

“The Heart of the Truest Believer,” Felix supplied, “He wants you to help him get it.” The answer sounded rehearsed, almost too much so.

“He knows perfectly well I won’t be helping him do anything,” Tink said.A scouting mission?Really?Was Pan so desperate as to seek out her help?She doubted it; he didn’t need her.He’d only truly needed her before Neverland, and in the very early days of its existence. So what _was_ this?

“Well, do you know what he wants to do with it?”Felix cocked his head and smiled at her, baiting her to ask. 

“I only know what he used to want.What he seems to have already attained.Immortality.Now,” Tink declared, thoroughly unnerved, “I can tell you what _I_ want- and it’s you out of my house.” 

“Do you know what I want?” Felix said, standing up beside her.He leaned in close, far too close. His eyes flickered down to her lips, and she forced herself not to shiver.She refused to meet his gaze, and pushed him away. 

“I don’t care,” she lied, “I don’t care what you want, and I don’t care what Pan wants.I’m not helping you, and I’m not helping him.I don’t care. _Get out._ ” 

Felix’s smile dropped, but he didn’t say anything more.Instead he walked out of the house, Tink staring after him as he slammed the front door. 

“I don’t care,” she repeated, as if by saying it to herself she could somehow make it so. 

* * *

“Interesting,” Regina murmured, taking Felix’s heart away from her lips.Mary Margaret had mentioned the strange tension between Felix and Tinkerbell to her in passing- she’d noticed in school -and the former Evil Queen had wondered what history lay there.A romantic one, apparently.Briefly, she’d considered that maybe Tinkerbell was on Pan’s side, helping her old lover and old friend to get Henry’s heart.Tinkerbell, however, seemed to want nothing to do with Pan, or Felix.Perhaps she was as afraid of them as anyone else. 

It didn’t matter, though.While Regina was glad to see that the fairy still remained on the side of Storybrooke, she intended to use the connection between the fairy and the Lost Boy to her advantage.After all, Felix’s heart had started to beat harder when he’d seen her, and when he’d been close enough to kiss her, it was pulsing with such strength it had almost fallen out of her hands.Maybe Tink had no lingering affection for him, but Felix had at least _something_ lingering for her. 

_Yes,_ Regina thought to herself with satisfaction, _I can definitely use that._

* * *

Wendy stared at her math homework despondently.While she’d been able to make some progress in her other subjects- she’d finally been able to put Peter out of her mind for at least a few minutes -math had remained elusive.She ran a hand through her hair, then laid her pencil down, letting out a sigh of frustration. 

“Having trouble, Bird?” 

_Here we go again,_ Wendy thought.Out loud, she said: 

“You’re making it worse, Peter.” 

“I can make it better,” he assured her.Ever the self-confident boy she’d known in Neverland, he walked towards her desk.He leaned over the back of her chair, scanning the problems in front of him.Acutely aware of his nearness, Wendy forced herself not to fidget.She reached for the pencil again, this time gripping it tightly in her fingers, if only to have something to focus on other than him. 

He read the problem to himself, his voice whisper-soft, “A car and train set out at 3 p.m. from the same point, going in the same direction- what’s a car?”Peter turned to her, so close his lips almost brushed her ear. 

Wendy flinched, “They’re like horseless carriages.You’ve seen them, Peter.They’re all over town; I know you know what they are.” 

Ignoring her jab, Peter returned his attention to the problem, “The average speed of the car is 40 miles slower than three times the speed of the train.In two hours, the car is 30 miles ahead of the train.What’s the speed of the car?” 

d r t

card + 303r-402

train d _r2_

 

 

_2r + 30 = 6r -80_

_110 = 4r_

_r = 27.5_

 

“27.5 miles per hour,” Peter concluded, rather pleased with himself. 

“27.5 miles per hour,” Wendy repeated, incredibly annoyed with herself.She _knew_ how to do the problem.She’d understood it in class- all her notes said it.If only Peter hadn’t been so _distracting-_

“See?” Peter picked up her hand in his, “You weren’t substituting 2r for d.That’s where you got confused.” He made as if to guide her into writing the problem, but she shook him off. 

“What?” Peter asked, “Wendy, I was _helping_ you-” His green eyes flashed with annoyance.

“Peter, you don’t _help_ people, especially me, without wanting something.What do you want?” Wendy demanded.She knew how this worked.She knew how _he_ worked.Nothing was ever for free; nothing was ever given without an ulterior motive. 

Pan shrugged, “I was helping you without asking for anything in return, though I wouldn’t object if you would come to Regina’s mansion this evening.” 

“Why?” Wendy demanded. 

Peter grinned, “The Boys miss you.And there are new ones.I was hoping you could tell them stories.” 

“Stories about _what_?”

“Me, of course,” he smirked at her, as if wondering how she thought stories could possibly be about anything else. 

“Which ones?The one where you slaughtered an entire crew of pirates?Or the one where you murdered Lost Boys for wanting to go home?Or the one where you imprisoned me and held me hostage so my brothers would work for you?Or maybe I should tell them how you wanted to kill Henry- how you tried, and how you _failed_ ,” Wendy taunted him.As Peter stiffened, growing angrier and angrier with her condemnations, she continued: 

“I know what you’re doing, Peter.I know you’re trying to get new Lost Boys.” 

“I’m not _trying_ to do anything-” Peter insisted.He never tried things- he _did_ things. 

“Oh God, Peter Pan, don’t lie to me,” Wendy laughed, almost hysterically, “Not about something so obvious.I don’t want any part of it.I’m not helping you, and I won’t tell them you’re something you’re not.I found out the hard way exactly what you are.”Her blue eyes stared into his green, cold and hard. 

“And what’s that?” Peter asked, meeting her gaze with a stormy one of his own. 

“A monster.” 

* * *

_A few days after speaking with his Shadow, Peter appeared in Wendy’s treehouse.She opened her mouth to beg once again for Bae’s release, but he held up a hand to silence her.Then he approached her bed, extending his hand to her:_

_“There’s someplace special I’d like to show you.”_

_Wendy narrowed her eyes at him, “Am I free?”Peter merely smiled at her.Wendy forced her blood not to boil.He was taking her outside of her treehouse.She didn’t know where, and she didn’t know for how long, but it seemed like forever since she’d had even a farce of freedom.Though she hated having him escort her, who knew if she would get this chance again?_

_Who knew if she’d ever get another opportunity to run for it?If she humored Pan, at least for a while appeared compliant, maybe she could find Bae and leave._

_Or so she hoped._

_Swallowing her pride, Wendy took his hand and followed him out the door.The Neverland night was cold, though at least it wasn’t pouring rain.As before, Peter gathered her in his arms before taking off- he apparently didn’t trust her with pixie dust, and she felt a grim satisfaction at that.As she lay in his arms, she looked over his shoulder, searching for one of the fires that would mark the Lost Boys camp for the night.There was a single pillar of smoke at one end of the island, and desperate to remember its location, Wendy turned her eyes upward to find a constellation to mark the spot.Hopefully Peter wouldn’t change the constellations’ positions again in an effort to throw her off, though she supposed he would probably just put up her looking around due to her first taste of freedom after being cooped up for so long._

_At last, Peter landed.Wendy looked below and couldn’t help the shriek that sprang from her throat.Beneath her, waves crashed onto sharp grey rocks.If she angled her face just so, she could see that the shape of the massive structure she was standing on was that of a skull.She leaned forward, surreptitiously, but Pan immediately grabbed her and pulled her back.She turned around, finding herself pressed against his chest, their noses almost touching._

_“Don’t look down,” he warned her, “If you fall and hit those rocks, you’ll die.Come with me.”He took her hand again, then started to lead her up a flight of stairs.She tore her gaze away from the raging sea and followed.At the top of the stairs, they reached a stone chamber where a giant hourglass glittered.Massive gold pieces of sand, each glinting in the light, shimmered.Slowly, a grain of sand dropped, and Peter said:_

_“Another day in Neverland, over.”_

_Despite herself, Wendy inquired, “Where are we, Peter?” She raked her gaze all over the chamber, taking in the rough-hewn walls, and yet crystalline hourglass that seemed so out of place in it._

_“This is Skull Rock.It keeps track of time in the island.”_

_“But time is frozen here,” Wendy stated.That was the magic of Neverland- you never grew up.Time stood still; adventures could go on eternally._

_“Not quite,” Peter explained, “Time runs differently here, but it still goes on.This keeps track of it.”He gestured to the hourglass._

_Wendy couldn’t help but be intrigued, “What do you mean?”_

_Peter led her towards the great hourglass, then placed her hand on it, “One day in your world is one year in Neverland.”_

_Wendy ran her fingers down the warm surface, then pointed out, “It’s your world too.”She was curious whether or not he would admit to being the boy from Eton, or whether he would simply ignore her again.Apparently, he was feeling generous, for he said:_

_“It hasn’t been my world for a very long time,” Peter paused, and at her puzzled look, entreated, “Think of what I just told you, Wendy.”_

_“You went missing from Eton two years ago-” the girl began._

_A small smile played about his lips, “Two years on Earth; in the Land Without Magic.But for every day that passes there, a year passes here.”_

_At that, Wendy froze.Her hand fell from the glass, and her mouth dropped open as she did a calculation in her head, “But that means you- you’re- you’re over seven hundred years old!”_

_Peter’s face was impassive as he said, “Not quite.I’m older than that.”_

_“That’s impossible,” Wendy said, and repeated herself, “It’s just impossible-” How could he be over 700?He was so young- but if he lived that long, she wondered, what had the centuries done to him?To his personality?If he was that old, he wasn’t the boy from Eton anymore.He was something else, something unnatural.Like Hook had warned her, he looked like a boy, but he was a demon._

_“Nothing is impossible in Neverland,” Peter asserted, “Unless you’re slain or mortally injured, you can live forever.You and I both will.”He cast a sidelong glance at her._

_Wendy murmured, again watching the hourglass, “I don’t wish to.I want to be normal.”She couldn’t bear to end up like him- some otherworldly caricature of the person she used to be._

_“You, Wendy Darling,” Peter chuckled darkly, “were never normal, and you never will be.”He sounded almost fond of her, and since she knew that to be categorically untrue, it snapped Wendy out of her daze._

_“Why are you showing me this, Peter?” Wendy asked, “What’s the purpose?”_

_“Because I want you to understand how Neverland works,” Peter replied, “This place runs on dreams and imagination, but because of that, it claims new parts of dreams and they fuel it.The reason Neverland was thrown out of balance when you left was because you were something new.When something new arrives, it frees something old to leave, but if nothing replaces it, the island is thrown out of balance,” he looked at her pensively, seeing if she believed his lie._

_“So you’re saying that I was new to the island,” Wendy bit her lip, “and it grew used to my presence, but then I left, and nothing came to replace me- until Bae.”_

_Pan nodded, waiting for her to put the pieces together._

_“So we couldn’t leave together,” she said at last, hoping he would deny it._

_“Not unless I took two others to replace you both,” Peter answered, shattering her hopes._

_Wendy looked at him in abject horror.She wouldn’t condemn any boys to life here- not as it was now.Neverland was no longer the safe haven it had been.She wouldn’t let Peter snatch boys to bring them here to what she now realized was an eternal prison._

_“But if Bae replaced me,” Wendy paused, considering the prospect, “and I’m here- now that I’ve returned- could he leave?Could he go?”_

_“If you stayed,” Peter said, and after a moment, explained, “That’s why I told you you’d never go to London together.In the balance of the island, his life equals your life, and your life equals his.One of you can leave if the other stays.But you can’t both leave, or the island will die.I won’t let that happen, Wendy- I_ **_will_ ** _protect Neverland.Either one of you can leave, or both of you can stay.There’s no other way to maintain the island’s balance.”_

_Wendy stood, staring at the hourglass for a long time.Then she sucked in a breath and faced Peter:_

_“Bae despises magic.He hates it.It broke up his family.He_ **_needs_ ** _a family, so badly.He deserves one,” she hung her head for a moment, then gazed at Peter, her eyes meeting his with a fierceness that surprised him, “It has to be me.Let Bae go.I’ll stay- just- you must promise me that you will do some things, Peter.”_

_Pan raised an eyebrow.He hadn’t been expecting her to bargain, but he hadn’t been expecting her to acquiesce so quickly, either.No matter the case, he supposed he could at least listen.He nodded, indicating that she should name her requests._

_“Make sure Bae makes it back safely to our world.Make sure that he finds a family.As for my family...please don’t let anything hurt my brothers.Ever,” Wendy swallowed the lump in her throat, and blinked back a few tears._

_Peter didn’t say anything for a long moment, staring at the tears in her eyes.Then he said, “Consider it done.”_

* * *

About twenty minutes after Tink had kicked Felix out, she heard an angry Pan stomping down the stairs.He was muttering all sorts of curses under his breath, along with occasional outbursts of “Wendy,” “girl,” and strangely, “r.”While it seemed odd to her that he’d taken the stairs- she was so used to him flying -if he truly was angry with Wendy (not an outlandish possibility), she could definitely see him using the stairs to emphasize his pique.After all, he couldn’t use any of the techniques he had Neverland.It would void his contract. 

As he made his way down the stairs, Tink mentally warred with herself: 

_Should I tell him?What if I’m wrong?What if Felix really_ **does** _want to go back to Neverland with me?If I tell Pan, it would destroy any possibility of that...though Felix thinks_ ** _I’m_** _the one who left him..._

_But what if I’m right?_ she bit her lip, _What if I’m right and something is terribly wrong with Felix?Could I ever forgive myself if I knew he was hurt and I let it go by?_

She knew the answer:of course not. 

Swallowing her pride, Tink interrupted Peter’s thoughts, “Pan, I need to ask you something-”

Pan stopped, surprised.He smirked at her, “Ask _me_?What do you possibly think I could give you? _Would_ give you?I already spared your life.That’s more than I do for most people.”

Tink flinched at his cavalier attitude, “This isn’t about me.It’s about Felix-”

“- _don’t,”_ Pan silenced her.His smirk had disappeared, and his eyes were filled with anger- this time at her. 

“I’m not asking for that,” she said quickly, trying to assuage his anger, “I promise, I’m not.I just- it’s just I think something is wrong with him.And I want you to...I want you to know.And look into it.” She struggled to find the appropriate words. 

“Look into it?” Peter mocked her, “Do I look like the sheriff to you?” He laughed at the comparison. 

“Pan, _listen_ ,” Tink insisted, forcing down her own rage, “He just came in to talk to me.He started asking me about us going back to Neverland, and if I knew what your plan was-”

“So he taunted you,” Pan dismissed her words, “You know you’re not welcome back, and I’d be a fool to allow you into my confidence again.”Peter Pan was many things, but forgiving was not one of them.And despite what the stories of this world said about him, he never, ever, forgot. 

“Peter,” Tink dared to use his given name- something that she had once done so easily, but was now a dangerous wager on her part, “Felix asked me if I knew what _he_ wanted.He tried to,” she almost choked as she admitted, “-he tried to kiss me.You and I both know he wouldn’t do that.”Her heart constricted at the very words, and she blinked back tears, but it didn’t take away the truth.Felix would never choose her over Pan.It simply wasn’t in his makeup, especially with what he thought she’d done.

For an instant, Tink thought she saw a flash of sympathy in Peter’s eyes, but it passed so quickly she knew it hadn’t happened. 

“No,” Pan confirmed, “he wouldn’t.” A bit of pride had sneaked into his tone, but he crossed his arms and paced before her.He seemed both pensive and pleased. 

“So you agree with me that something’s wrong with him,” Tink hazarded, almost pleading with Pan say yes.She knew if nothing else that Peter was the most powerful being she’d ever encountered, and in his way, he cared for the Lost Boys.If anyone could save Felix, if anyone _would_ save Felix, it would be him. 

“Oh, I know what’s wrong with him,” Peter said breezily, ceasing his pacing to glance over his shoulder at her. 

“You _do_?” Tink said in astonishment, then with a bit of dread, “Please tell me you didn’t cause it.” 

Pan raised an eyebrow at her, “Of course I know.I’m Peter Pan. And no, I didn’t cause it. Regina did.”

“Regina?” Tink repeated, utterly confused.What did _she_ have to gain from all this? 

“Oh yes,” Peter replied, “I was wondering how long it would take her to do this.She was getting awfully slow-” he murmured the second part to himself, almost in disapproval.He’d thought her a more worthy foe than that. 

“Peter,” Tink said through gritted teeth, determined to get him to answer her, “What did she _do?”_

Pan looked at her with distaste.Normally he would have punished her for her insolence.Aside from the fact that he couldn’t, due to his bargain with the Evil Queen and the Savior, and aside from the fact that Tink currently had the protection of the house, he knew she was only acting so out of sorts out of concern for Felix.He swallowed, and decided he would let it go- this once. 

“She took his heart, of course,” Pan smirked, “and now I’m going to get it back.”

* * *

_The day after Wendy and Peter had made their bargain, Peter had ended whatever spell kept Wendy locked in her treehouse.She was now free to roam the island as she wished, though as she was unfamiliar with it now, she stuck nearer to the Lost Boys.Now, much to her displeasure, their camp had moved nearby the Mermaids’ Lagoon.While most of the Boys pitched their tents on the shore (Peter had decided to speak with the mermaids, and he was almost halfway in the lagoon.He, it seemed, was the only one the mermaids wouldn’t try to drown), Wendy was determined to learn more about what had happened in Neverland. She sidled close to the one Lost Boy who had hinted at the truth to her._

_“Rufio,” Wendy asked, “Please tell me.Please tell me.If I’m to spend the rest of my life here...” she trailed off, “I need to know what happened when I was gone.”_

_“Wendy,” Rufio said evenly,“Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”He leaned against the pole he’d erected to hold up his tent, keeping his eyes fixed on the lagoon.He was watching for Peter’s return- Wendy shuddered as she realized Rufio was nervous Pan would overhear them._

_“Well,” Wendy answered uncertainly, recalling her conversation with Bae, “I was only gone one night in London-”_

_“You were here for a year.”_

_Wendy flinched.She’d been hoping Peter had lied to her about the time difference- he had lied to her during her first visit, after all, telling her time stood still in Neverland.However, Rufio had just confirmed Pan’s words, meaning that she’d spent a year of her life in Neverland. A whole year of her life, turned into a single night.An entire year hat Peter had stolen, an entire year that she had missed, that she hadn’t even_ **_noticed_ ** _passing by. She had been so caught up in adventures- and in her heart, her stupid heart -that she’d never realized days were flashing by.She’d changed so much, and in London it had been reduced to just a dream._

_“So?” Wendy asked at last, trying to ignore the horrible truth of it._

_“Wendy, how long were you gone in your world?” the Lost Boy inquired._

_“Three months,” she replied.At Rufio’s accusing look, she immediately grew defensive, “I thought Pan would let Bae go- I thought he wanted one of my brothers- I thought-” the excuses sounded feeble to her own ears.Shaking her head, she let the words die in her mouth._

_“It’s been almost a hundred years since you left, Wendy,” Rufio reminded her._

_“No!” she gasped, “It can’t have been-” Although Peter had explained the way time worked in Neverland to her, she had a hard time believing it, even now._

_Rufio nodded, “It’s true.”After a moment, he grabbed her hand, leading her into his tent.Apparently, he didn’t want anyone to overhear what he was saying, even the Lost Boys._

_“When you left, things began to happen here that never had before.The plants started to wither.Animals started to die.The seas grew choppy, and the mermaids came closer than they ever had before.They took quite a few new Lost Boys before Pan told them off-” he stopped, seeing Wendy’s ashen face, “Pan knew something was wrong with the island._ **_We_ ** _knew something was wrong with the island, but we didn’t know what exactly, and though none of us dared say it, neither did he.The island began to die, the Indians began to starve, and Peter held out as long as he could.He changed the environment.Used his imagination to reinvent things.But none of it worked,” Rufio swallowed, no longer meeting Wendy’s eyes, “I think it drove him a bit mad.”_

_Wendy shivered at the prospect of a mad Peter Pan.Neverland has been his kingdom before.The land obeyed his every whim.What would an all-powerful being do if he truly was mad?And for Rufio to say such a thing about his leader...things had to have been very bad._

_“One day, I told him that I thought it might have been you,” Rufio looked almost ashamed, “The island was never the same after you left.I’ve never seen Peter so enraged- he drew his dagger on me; he would have killed me.I think the only reason he didn’t was because he knew, deep down, that I was right.He’d come to the same conclusion, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.Still, you know Pan- he’d never admit such a weakness.He’d never admit that he couldn’t take care of the island on his own,” the Lost Boy’s voice grew bitter as he continued his story, “He whipped me that night, in front of all the Lost Boys.Felix replaced me as his second, mostly because of his unending belief in Pan,” Rufio snorted with disdain, “but Wendy, even though I knew it was you that had caused the change in the island, I still wouldn’t have condemned you to come back.Not with the way things are now.”_

_Wendy smiled sadly, “I don’t think either of us have a choice,” she paused, her pretty pink lips pursed, “At least Bae’s safe.”_

_Rufio eyed her, “Yeah.He left earlier today.I don’t know where he went.”_

_“He went home,” Wendy said, tears sparkling in her eyes, “He went home.And he’ll be with my brothers and my parents, and he’ll have a family...” she trailed off, “He’s home now.”_

* * *

Later that night, Wendy had decided to go to Granny’s Diner.Aside from the fact that the last place she was planning on going was to Regina’s mansion, there was also the problem that cooking here was harder than it had been in Neverland, where she’d had imagination and magic to aid her.Despite her best attempts, her dishes weren’t the best in this world, and she wanted to get something edible.She’d asked Tink to come along, but the fairy had declined, claiming she was sick.Wendy knew she was lying, but didn’t press the issue.Instead, she’d simply shrugged on her jacket and walked out the door.Felix, of course, melted out of the shadows to follow her.She didn’t acknowledge his presence. 

When she reached the diner, she opened the door and sighed.She hung her jacket on the hook beside her booth, then slid onto the cushions, opening the worn plastic menu to peruse the dishes that were still strange to her.Felix took a seat at the bar. 

“What are you doing out of your nest?” a familiar voice asked her, “I thought you weren’t planning on going anywhere tonight, as you refused my invitation.” 

Wend sighed.She’d known this was a risk of coming here, but she’d hoped Peter was off skulking in Regina’s mansion with the Lost Boys.It seemed he wouldn’t let her eat her dinner in peace- but then again, he never had. 

“What does it look like I’m doing, Peter?” she said sarcastically, “I’m getting something to eat.” 

Peter chuckled, “You’re still mad at me.”He seemed infinitely amused at the prospect.He, apparently, had forgotten his own ire with her.

“Is it that obvious?” Wendy retorted, flipping her a page on her menu. 

Unperturbed by her disdain, Peter merely slid into the seat across from her. 

“What are _you_ doing?” Wendy asked. 

He raised an eyebrow at her and replied, “I’m getting something to eat.” 

Wendy said, “No.What were you doing _before_ I came in?” While it was true that being around her was seemingly one of his favorite pastimes, he hadn’t known she was going to be here- he’d planned on being in Regina’s -well, now his -mansion.That meant he’d been at Granny’s on his own, up to his own devices.Knowing Peter, they couldn’t possibly be good devices. 

Peter shrugged, “I told you, Wendy.I wanted something to eat.”His words were innocent enough, but his smile wasn’t, and surreptitiously, his gaze flicked across the diner.Wendy turned to follow his gaze.Sitting in a booth in the corner, a well-worn book in front of him, was Henry Mills.He had a cup of hot cocoa in front of him, which he was occasionally sipping from, but otherwise, he was totally absorbed in the story. 

“Henry?You can’t hurt him.And he’ll never give you his heart,” Wendy asserted.Peter might still be determined to take Henry’s heart, but Henry had to believe in him and offer it freely.Wendy was certain that Peter was the absolute last person Henry believed in right now. 

Peter shrugged, “I don’t need to hurt him.And you of all people know that it’s better to not speak of what won’t ever happen.”He grinned at her. 

“So what were you planning on doing?Strolling up to his table and asking to be friends?” Wendy scoffed, “You’ve more or less _taken over Storybrooke._ Do you really think no one notices you’re here?”Even though her words were incredulous enough, she looked around and realized that most people, incredibly, were ignoring his presence. 

Again, Peter smiled, “People like to ignore the more frightening things of the world.Besides, I haven’t done anything.Well, aside from the Twins.But I haven’t hurt anyone else.I obeyed my part of the agreement, so they obey theirs.People think I’m placated.The common people don’t really worry anymore.” 

“And Emma and the Evil Queen?” 

“They worry.But what can they do?” Peter pointed out, “they agreed to the game.” 

“Am I interrupting something?” their verbal sparring was stalled by Ruby.She stood in front of them, pen poised above her pad: 

“Is this date night, then?” 

“ _No!_ ” Wendy said immediately, while Peter answered, “Yes.”Wendy kicked him under the table, but he barely flinched. 

Ruby raised an eyebrow, “Normally we don’t serve serial killers.” 

“I’ve mended my ways,” Pan assured her. 

“Have you?” Ruby’s tone was light enough, but her eyes were dark.Peter met her gaze with equal darkness: 

“Yes.This place is hardly Neverland.”He managed to sound so disdainful and uncaring that Wendy almost believed him.At Ruby’s puzzled, but satisfied look, Wendy wondered how many people knew about particulars of the agreement at all.Had the Charmings truly succeeded in keeping what was truly at stake quiet from most of the townsfolk?Even from Ruby, who would serve as a great protector for Henry? 

“What can I get you?” Ruby asked, tapping her pen on the paper. 

“A grilled cheese,” Wendy blurted the first thing that came into her head. Ruby’s eyes moved to Peter for his order, but the boy’s eyes went to Felix, still seated at the bar: 

“Felix!Any suggestions?” 

Obediently, the Lost Boy gave his leader a small smile, slid off his stool, and approached the booth.He looked over the menu, gray eyes scanning each item meticulously for something that he knew would satisfy Pan. 

“Well then,” Wendy murmured, “I’ll let you two catch up while you make a decision.”Then she slipped past a startled Ruby and hurried to the booth where Henry sat by himself. 

“Hello,” she said demurely.Henry looked up at her and smiled: 

“Hi Wendy!Sit down!” 

Wendy did, forcing herself not to look back at Peter- who she was sure was staring at her.She could feel his gaze on her back.Luckily, Henry didn’t seem to notice.He grinned at her in perfect innocence.It was almost as though he didn’t recall their time in Neverland at all- then again, she supposed, Henry hadn’t quite known the extent of Wendy’s role.He thought she was just Pan’s prisoner, and later, part of the reason he’d made it home. 

Her gut twisted- had she made a different choice, one single choice, Henry would have been dead.And he had no clue. 

Still, Wendy reminded herself she made the choice she did for a reason.Henry was a good person- a good boy who didn’t deserve to die, never mind be _lied_ to and think he was sacrificing his life for a noble reason. 

“How are you doing?” Henry asked cheerfully.He pushed his mug towards her, “Do you like hot cocoa?” 

Wendy smiled, “I’ve been better.But Henry- I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she bit her lip, “At night- do you hear music?”She was curious at the extent of Peter’s reach, and if what Felix had said was true. 

Henry’s own smile faded, and he nodded, “Do you?” 

“Yes.” 

They sat in silence for a moment, considering this.Idly, Wendy pondered if he had revealed this to anyone.It seemed like something Emma and Regina would want to know, butjudging from Henry’s face, he didn’t want to worry the two women any more than they already were. 

“You know, my mom says she they got Pan to back off, but I don’t believe her,” Henry confessed, “If he backed off, why would I still hear the music?” 

“Felix once told me that everyone who stepped on Neverland’s shores hears the music, forever,” Wendy answered. 

Henry frowned, forehead furrowed, “But we didn’t hear it.Not ‘til he came to town.I think he’s up to something.” 

_If you only knew,_ Wendy thought darkly. 

“I think you’re right,” she admitted aloud, “but I don’t know what to do about it.”

“I’ve got a plan,” Henry whispered, “but I don’t think my moms will like it.” 

Intrigued, Wendy asked, “What is it?” 

Henry looked back and forth, as if to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, “You can’t tell anyone.I don’t even know if I want to tell both my moms...” he trailed off, then said, “but I feel like I can trust you with Operation Raptor.You helped save me in the first place.” 

She smiled weakly, still slightly guilty about the choice she’d _almost_ made, but, she reminded herself, she hadn’t made it in the end.Henry was alive, and asking for her input.So it was that Wendy took Henry’s hand in hers.She would never tell Pan what Henry revealed to her- she’d fooled Pan once, and she was sure she could do it again. 

“So tell me,” Wendy said, “What’s Operation Raptor?” 

Henry bit his lip, then whispered, “Pan can’t take my heart if I don’t have it, right?” 

Wendy gasped, “What do you mean?” 

The boy continued, “I want my mom to take out my heart and put it in her vault.I know she has a spell to make sure no one can get in but her.Actually, she should take out her heart too.That way Pan can’t get our hearts, and he can’t make my mom let him in without our hearts.He’d have no way to control us.” 

“He could threaten to kill you,” Wendy noted.Peter never had been averse to death- his reentry into Storybrooke made that very clear. 

Henry shrugged, “My mom would still never let him in.Plus, he needs me alive for the heart to stay alive.” 

Wendy paused to contemplate his plan in greater detail.It was crazy- absolutely crazy -but it was also crazy enough that it could stop Pan.Pan couldn’t force Henry to give him the heart if Henry didn’t have his heart at all. And he couldn’t make Regina do so either.If no one had access to the vault but Regina....

“Henry,” Wendy said, “That just might work.” 


	19. There's an Error in My Soul

After her conversation with Henry, Wendy couldn’t help but feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time:hope.She wasn’t sure what she was hoping for, exactly- what would happen if the Charmings won?Would Peter die, and for good this time?She didn’t want him dead- if nothing else, she knew that.But she didn’t want Henry dead, either. 

But if the Charmings won, what would Peter do?If he lived, would he simply return to Neverland?And if he did, what would he do there?According to him, the island was still in danger.He wouldn’t give up on his kingdom.He would never be content to live in Storybrooke and start a new life.He would begin to hunt from world to world, looking for another solution to save Neverland.Someone would end up on the sacrificial altar, if he had his way, and he almost always did. 

Unless they trapped him here.Then Peter would have no choice but to start over.As a boy. Not a king, but a boy. 

For some reason, that thought made her a bit happier, and so when she returned to the table she shared with Peter, she was smiling, and Peter noticed: 

“What’s gotten into you, Bird?” 

“Nothing,” Wendy smiled at him, cocking her head to the side.Peter was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. 

“Tell the truth, Darling,” Pan commanded.He narrowed his eyes at her, green, ethereal orbs glowing in the dull fluorescent diner lights. 

The girl continued her act, “I’m just...excited.”The word slipped easily at the end of the sentence, as if it always should have been there, and while she could tell Peter was still suspicious, he took the bait: 

“About what normal thing are you excited this time?” he inquired, “Because the football game _was_ entertaining, I’ll give you that, Bird,” he paused, considering what the Lost Boys- both new and old -had shared with him.There seemed to be many things on Storybrooke High’s calendar.It was almost as if they were making up for lost time, and so shoving any possible excuse for an event into the span of a few weeks. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Pan breathed, certain he had happened upon the answer, “The dance.That’s what you’re excited for.You always did like dances.”He looked at her pointedly, and his facial expression was somewhere between self-satisfaction and- wistfulness?

Wendy decided she was going to let him think that. It was always easier to lie to Pan when he’d already come up with a conclusion himself.He rarely, if ever, doubted himself, so all she had to do was confirm his theory and he’d most likely stop pressing the issue. 

“Yes.I did.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as Ruby approached with her grilled cheese- and a hamburger, which apparently was what Felix (now seated back at the bar) had recommended for Peter.Peter, for a moment, stopped staring at her to examine what was on his plate.He raised an eyebrow, then carefully picked up the top bun.Ruby watched him, clearly amused by his puzzlement. 

“You want ketchup with that?” 

“What?” Pan shifted uncomfortably in the booth, apparently still taken aback by the offending dish.Imagined food was _so_ much better than this.At least he could tell what it was by one look- what was _this thing?_ Why had Felix even suggested it?It looked like a slab of old meat pressed between two pieces of bread.Long strips of what smelt like salted potatoes were next to it, and he seemed less suspicious of those (mostly because they smelt good).He was still rather dubious about the burger, however. 

“Yes,” Wendy answered for him, daintily taking a bite of her own sandwich.After spending over a hundred years with someone, even someone you despised, you couldn’t help learning their tastes.She was fairly certain Peter would like ketchup with his burger. 

“Mustard?” Ruby inquired, this time directing the question only to Wendy.Judging from Pan’s reaction, he apparently couldn’t decide whether he was annoyed that he was being ignored or pleased Wendy knew what he would want.He shifted his eyes back and forth from the girl he knew was a Wolf to the girl he knew was a Bird. 

“You could ask _me,_ you know,” Pan told the waitress, apparently deciding on righteous indignation.He drummed his fingers against the table.His plate vibrated against the plastic with a ring that grated on Wendy’s ears.She sighed.Mass-murderer he might be, killer he was, sometimes utterly mad, but he could also be such a _child_ when he wanted to. 

“I would,” Ruby retorted, “If you had any idea what I was talking about.” Subtly, Wendy shook her head at her- both a response to whether Peter would want mustard (no) and a warning not to push him further.Like a child, if brought to a point, he could throw a tantrum.Usually, though, the tantrums ended up in death, and Wendy liked Ruby too much to see her dead- let alone over mustard. 

Luckily for her, Ruby noticed Wendy’s gesture and took that as her cue to leave.She sashayed behind the bar, her hips swinging in time with the song playing softly over the radio.As she disappeared into the kitchen, Felix turned to glance at Peter.Wendy could practically see the exchange between the two: 

_I can kill her, if you want._

_With what? Using your switchblade would be a waste on her._

_A chair works just as well as a club._

A slow smile spread across Peter’s face, and Wendy instantly decided a distraction was necessary. 

“I don’t think you’d like the dance as much as the football game, Peter.”Immediately, his attention switched to her.Suspiciously, he asked: 

“Why?I thought I wouldn’t like the football game, either, and you were right.”

“No one usually dies at football games,” Wendy replied as Ruby silently returned and delivered a bottle of ketchup to the table.Quickly, the girl grabbed it, undid the lid, then took Peter’s dish towards her.Wendy hadn’t played Mother to his Father, or Mother to the Lost Boys in ages, but old habits died hard.Besides, it was better for him to focus on her.Accordingly, she removed the bun, and spread ketchup on it before pushing it back to him: 

“In either case, you wouldn’t like this dance, Peter.”Wendy nodded to him, and warily, he picked up the burger and took a bite.She recognized the flash of surprise and pleasure across his face- he liked it -but it was fleeting.He wouldn’t acknowledge “normal” food as being good- or perhaps better than something imagined in Neverland. 

“Why not?” Pan asked, putting the burger down to try a french-fry.He was distinctly less suspicious of his food now, and quickly finished one fry before eagerly starting on another. 

“Because it’s not a real dance.People here...they don’t dance.They sort of,” Wendy wasn’t sure how to phrase it, “move against each other.It’s not dancing.And besides...you’d have to dress up as someone else.It’s for Halloween.You’d need a costume.”

Pan looked at her, this time utterly perplexed, “Why would I want to be someone else when I can be me?” 

“That’s exactly why you wouldn’t like it,” Wendy said decisively.She took a sip from her water, watching as Peter’s confusion morphed into an angry frown. 

“But you like being someone else, don’t you, Bird?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, sensing the conversation was dangerous, but not entirely certain why.Peter had mood swings- he’d had them increasingly more often during her second visit in Neverland -and he could go from laughing to killing back to laughing in minutes.She doubted he would kill _her-_ but she knew from experience he had no qualms at hurting _others_ to hurt her. 

“Felix and Dodger told me you go around calling yourself ‘Gwen Carissima,’” Peter said the name with extra flourish.Although Wendy had liked her pseudonym, thinking it was an elegant homage to her original name without reminding her of her dark past, he made it sound stupid. 

Carefully, Wendy considered her reply, “Everyone has different names in this world.That’s what people know me as here.”She bit into her grilled cheese again, trying to keep him in sight without directly making eye contact.Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he had forgotten about his burger.Head on his hands, he stared at her intently. 

“You were born into this world as Wendy Darling,” Pan pointed out. 

“You were born into this world as Peter Ponsoby,” Wendy noted, “yet you changed your name.”The name came easily from her lips.Although Peter had only hinted at his past to her before- even in a hundred years he’d let only a few clues slip of his former identity -she’d never actually confronted him about it.Not after the day they’d made their agreement on Skull Rock.He clearly didn’t like to remember his past, and she knew him well enough not to force him to remember a time before he had been the immortal, unstoppable, extraordinary being known as Peter Pan. 

“Because I didn’t want my family name.” 

At that comment, Wendy’s eyes widened.He _never_ talked about his origins- not in depth to her.She’d been able to piece together bits of it to form a theory- he was the son of a wealthy earl who famously went missing from Eton, never to return; he’d built Neverland from the pure strength of his imagination; he took Lost Boys who were lonely and unloved; at least two of whom he’d known from school.But _he_ never mentioned it, and he never mentioned why. 

“What?” Wendy asked, feeling ridiculous. 

“You heard me, Darling,” Peter answered, his tone growing cruel, “I didn’t want my family name.But you- you never _stopped_ wanting your family.Over a hundred years without them and _still_ you wanted them.Why would you not want their name?” He cocked his head at her, his tone angry, yet mixed with a bit of condemnation. 

Wendy’s jaw dropped.How could he _say_ such horrible things?Did he mean to imply that by changing her name she was forgetting her family?That she wanted to do that?That she didn’t want to remember her parents?Or even John and Michael- God, John and Michael!She hadn’t spoken to them in ages.She told herself it was to protect them from Pan, and maybe to some degree it was, but was that all of it? 

How could Peter say she didn’t want them? 

Worse, could he actually be right?

“I do want my family,” she stammered, “I miss them, I love them-” her chest ached at the words. 

Peter shrugged, “Bird, who are you trying to convince?Me, or you?All I’m going to say is your brothers were _always_ John and Michael Darling.They never changed who they were, who they are.You were the one who wanted to be someone else.What must that have felt like, I wonder, to have a sister under their roof who didn’t even want to be their sister?” 

“Stop, Peter,” Wendy said, voice trembling, “Now you’re just being cruel-”

“I’m being honest,” Peter declared, “You like being someone else.I can’t see why.From what I’ve heard of Gwen Carissima from the newer Lost Boys, she’s nice enough, but shallow.Obsessed with shopping.Silly things.Inconsequential things.Oh, and that she thinks of herself as some kind of goddess, going around and saying hi to all the outcasts without doing any actual thing to help them-”

“ _Peter_ -”

“Wendy Darling, meanwhile, loves so much she’ll give up her future, and her freedom, for someone she barely knows.She’ll give up her soul to save others.She’ll even try to save her enemies from death,” Pan stood up, tossing some money (where had he even gotten it? Felix?) on the table, “I like Wendy Darling much better.I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to be her.” 

Then he nodded to the pile of crisp bills, “That should cover your dinner.” 

And he walked out the door. 

* * *

Later that night, Wendy sat on the couch in the living room she shared with Tinkerbell.The two girls sat dejected on the couch, but for different reasons, though both involved Peter Pan.Tinkerbell was casually drinking something, swigging directly from the bottle- to Wendy, it was almost reminiscent of the first time she met Hook.The fairy, perhaps persuaded by the alcohol, was actually sharing why she was upset with Wendy (they had locked the doors and windows tight so Felix couldn’t overhear them): 

“And Pan said that Regina took Felix’s heart.So everything Felix said to me- everything about going back to Neverland together...everything about what he wanted- that he wanted me...it was a lie.It was all a lie,” Tink’s voice cracked on the last word, “and Regina said it.I tried to help her, and she just manipulated me.I feel like she betrayed me.Again.”She grabbed a pillow, hugging it close to herself.It was strange for Wendy to see the fairy so vulnerable. 

“I don’t think she was trying to hurt you,” Wendy said aloud, “I think she’s just trying to protect Henry.”She didn’t know the Evil Queen well, but it seemed like everything Regina’d ever done in Storybrooke had been to save her son.According to Bae, she’d turned over a new leaf, and while Regina occasionally had forays into darkness, she never stayed there.In fact, Henry considered her to be a hero, and Regina wanted to live up to that standard.She was making the effort, too.The queen probably hadn’t aimed to upset Tink- just see what she knew.

“I get it,” Tink responded, “I do, but I can’t help how I feel. And you know what the worst part is, Wendy?” she took another drink from the bottle, “For a second there, I really wanted it to be true. I really wanted Felix to...want me,” she brushed away a few stray tears from her eyes, “I knew better, of course.And in a way, I’m glad Pan told me.It was just-”

“Bad?” Wendy supplied.It seemed like the only appropriate description for such a conversation. 

“Very.” 

“If it makes you feel any better, he ruined my day too,” Wendy admitted.She crossed her arms, wishing she had a pillow of her own to hug- or perhaps throw across the room.

Tink snorted, “That’s not new, Wendy.What did Pan do this time?”

“Well, he crashed my dinner.He wasn’t bad at first-” Wendy began. 

The fairy groaned, “He never is.But it gets bad quickly.”

“Pan asked why I was happy, and asked if it had to do with the dance.I said yes,” Wendy dared not reveal what Henry had told her, even to Tinkerbell, “and told him he wouldn’t like this dance because you had to be someone else.”

“I’m sure that went over well,” Tink replied sarcastically.She shifted, crossing her legs and slouching down so they rested on the coffee table. 

“No, it didn’t,” Wendy sighed, “then he asked me why I wouldn’t be Wendy Darling.Why I pretended to be Gwen Carissima, and why I liked it.Then he more or less told me I was a terrible person for denying my family.”

Tinkerbell, paused, eyes widened, “Let me see if I understand this correctly.Peter Pan gave you a speech on morality.” 

“Yes.” 

There was a long silence, and then Tink passed Wendy her bottle, “Here.You need this more than me if a serial killer is telling you that you’re a bad person.” 

Wendy grimaced, “I don’t want it, Tinkerbell.Thank you. I just-” she sighed again, “Do you think he’s right?” 

At that, Tink pressed the bottle more firmly into Wendy’s hand, “No.I don’t.I think it was silly of you to pretend you aren’t Wendy Darling, but I don’t think you did it because you didn’t want your family. You did it because you didn’t want him.” 

Wendy sucked in a breath, but Tink cut her off: 

“Don’t even go there, Wendy. Don’t lie.You loved him, the first time you came to Neverland-”

“I was fourteen years old,” Wendy retorted, “I didn’t know anything about love-” that’s what her mother had said to comfort her, when Wendy had told her mother how sad she was in the three months between her sojourns to the island.Her mother- being her mother -had noticed her daughter’s malaise, and Wendy had claimed she was heartbroken by Bae’s seeming abandonment of her (and she was heartbroken about that, but not in the way she said).Mrs. Darling had embraced her daughter and murmured that it would be all right, that the pain would pass quickly because she was only fourteen and so young and knew nothing about love. 

“Oh, stop,” Tink insisted, “If you want you can say that, but you had feelings for him, if nothing else.”

“Does it matter?” Wendy nearly hissed.She’d wanted to help Tink, to just _talk_ to her after their respective wretched days, but she didn’t want to hear _this._ However, she forced herself to calm down- Tink was drunk, that’s all.Drunk people said stupid things all the time, and she couldn’t blame Tink for the alcohol’s influence. 

“Yes, it does,” the fairy asserted, “because it had to be hard to come back to Neverland and see what he had become.You might have been fourteen the first time, but you spent enough years on the island that you’re not a little girl.Your feelings were still there, and he manipulated that, and he did for over a hundred years.It’s no _wonder_ you wanted to forget him,” Tink rolled her eyes, “but the point is that he’s wrong, and that’s why you changed your name, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.” 

“Is that your attempt at comfort?” 

Tink shrugged, “I’m sure I’d be better at this sober.But I guess.Look, you’ve built a life without him, and in a way, I think he hates that.” 

“He doesn’t care-”

“I’ve known Peter Pan even longer than you,” Tink answered, “and he is capable of caring, even as twisted as he is now.” 

“What do you mean?” Wendy asked. 

Tink took another sip, then said, “I first met Peter when he was three years old.He was the most extraordinary child.He believed in fairies, and sought us out.Searched his house.Caused all sorts of problems,” she snorted, “and one day, he found me in his cupboard.” 

* * *

_When the door to the cupboard opened, the fairy concealed inside gasped andscrambled back, a great clanging of pans announcing her movement.The toddler who’d spotted her gave her a brilliant smile. His baby teeth were astonishingly white, and his hair was all golden curls.Green eyes were bright with excitement:_

_“Hello!” he exclaimed.He waved at her, his chubby fingers wiggling back and forth._

_“Hello,” she said back cautiously.She cast a glance behind him, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the kitchen.The little boy was quite alone, and part of her wondered how he’d even gotten down her without being spotted._

_“I’ve been looking for you forever,” he gushed, “I knew you had to be here, I just knew it!” He clapped his hands together, completely giddy._

_The fairy was dumbstruck.It wasn’t unusual for children in this world, especially the very young ones, to believe in fairies.What was unusual was for them to_ **_see_ ** _fairies.It was even more unusual for them to seek them out._

_“What made you think that?” she asked, cocking her head to examine him more closely._

_The toddler grinned, “I like to make music with the pans-” She nearly choked on his description.She heard his “music” daily.By “music,” he meant smashing and banging them about in an attempt to mimic drums.It was hardly music._

_“-and I broke ‘em.Cook was very mad at me,” he frowned, “and the next day, the pans were all fixed!So,” the boy said seriously, “I knew it happened with magic.And fairies do magic.So,” he leaned towards her, “My name is Peter. What’s yours?”_

_“Green,” the fairy said simply.She wasn’t fond of it, but she wasn’t called anything else._

_“Green?” Peter asked, brow furrowing, “That’s not a name.”He sat back on his heels, resting his head in his hands._

_“It’s my name,” the fairy stated, “I’m a common fairy.Common fairies don’t get pretty names.We’re all named after colors.”_

_“There are different types of fairies?” Peter’s eyes lit up at the thought._

_“Yes,” Green found herself explaining, though she didn’t know why, “There’s royalty- King Oberon and Queen Titania -and nobles, and commoners.The nobles can be whatever they want...they can do nothing and everything,” she said with envy, “All fairy godmothers are noble.Commoners are given the magic tasks no one else wants to do-”_

_“Like what?” Peter leaned even closer to the cabinet, practically sticking his head inside.Green approached him warily, nervous he’d whack his head on the top of the ceiling.She hoped by giving him a better view he would move his head back and be less likely to injure himself- and thus draw attention to her._

_“Well, there are those who find lost things-”_

_“They seem like a good sort of fairy,” the toddler noted._

_“Most are, though some don’t return what they find.Some are servants, and do cooking and cleaning-”_

_“What do you do?” Peter asked, curiosity filling his tone._

_Green gestured around her, “I mend the pots and pans.”_

_“Like a tinker?You’re really good at it,” he complimented her.While it was true, Green hated her job.Sighing, she revealed the truth to the little boy:_

_“It’s not what I want to do.”_

_“What do you want?” Peter inquired.He quite liked the fairy who lived in his cabinet and fixed the pots and pans.It was only because of her he was able to continue to play and make music. He didn’t know quite how to do it, but he wanted to help her._

_“I want to be a fairy godmother,” Green said, “I want to help others, so, so badly.Really help them, not just fix their kitchenware,” she kicked a nearby pan, then grinned at him, “even if the kitchenware is very nice.” She winked, and he laughed.After a moment, he said excitedly:_

_“You should ask to be a fairy godmother!I bet you’d be really good at it too,” he paused, then wrinkled his nose, “and you should ask for a real name.Green’s a silly name.You’re too pretty for a silly name.”_

_Despite herself, the fairy blushed, “Thank you, Peter, but they won’t listen.I’m a common fairy.”_

_“I don’t think you are,” Peter replied, “You’re my fairy, so you’re special.”He said this with utmost conviction, as if it were a truth no one could deny.The sky was blue, Green was Peter’s fairy, and thus, she was special.Anyone who said otherwise was a fool._

_“What?” the fairy inquired again._

_“You live in my cupboard.You’re my fairy,” he said seriously.Green was amused by his confidence, and so she smiled:_

_“I suppose I am.”_

_“Then I’ll talk to the king and queen for you,” the toddler decided.He nodded, pleased and determined._

_“_ **_What_ ** _?” Green asked yet again.She could barely seek an audience with the king and queen, never mind a human toddler doing so.In fact, she’d only seen them at a distance.She could hardly just stride up to them and demand they meet this strange- yet wonderful -child._

_“Take me to them.I know where they are,” Peter confessed, “I’ve seen them, when Mama takes me to Kensington Gardens.”Green’s jaw dropped, and he grinned at her._

_“But- how can you-” she sputtered.She didn’t even know how to respond at this point.Peter could see her, Peter could see other fairies, Peter knew the secret location of the fairy court- what else did he know?_

_“I’m special, and you’re special, and we’re going to talk to the king and queen.Now.Come on,” he held out a hand to her, “We can fly there.I’m part bird,” Peter said proudly.He puffed his chest out, convinced that he really was capable of such a feat._

_“Peter,” Green was gaping at him, unsure how to explain this truth to him, “You’re human.I’m afraid you aren’t a bird at all.You can’t fly”_

_He cocked his head, “I’m special.I’m not like the other boys.I’ll prove it.Come on.”Then, without waiting for a response, he reached into the cupboard, and gently nudged her into his hands.Without further explanation, he walked confidently towards a side door in the deserted kitchen, opened it, and strode into the night._

_“Peter, you can’t just leave your home!” Green berated him.Frantically she turned to look back at the great house, certain that someone would see the little lord missing from his bed.She waited for the shouting, the lights to flicker on, for servants to stream out of the house, the worried cries of a mother.Yet none came._

_Casting her gaze questioningly back up at Peter, the toddler merely shrugged, “No one notices when I’m gone, not at night.They all sleep when they can be doing more!”_

_“Like what?” Green queried, almost afraid to ask.If nothing else, Peter was right about one thing:he wasn’t normal.She’d never heard of a human child like this, who believed in fairies, snuck out of his house at age three, and talked as if he were young and old all at once._

_He paused in thought, then announced, “Saying funny things to the stars.”He turned his head back and forth, and Green realized he was ascertaining their location.The little boy couldn’t even_ **_read,_ ** _but he remembered the way to Kensington Gardens.However, even if his parents didn’t note his absence, surely someone on the London street would stop to ponder the oddity of a three year old walking about in the dead of the night?_

_“Peter,” Green said, “I know you want to talk to the king and queen, but someone will stop you.A human will.It’s not normal, for a child to walk alone at night.If you really want to go, I need to do get big.”_

_“What?”This time, it was Peter who was confused._

_“Put me down,” the fairy commanded, and surprised by the force in her tone, he complied.She hopped out of his palms onto the pavement, then nodded to herself.In the blink of an eye, so quickly no human would ever see, she grew in size to match that of a human.She wore a glamour, so her short fairy dress- green, of course, to match her name -appeared like a respectable servant woman’s brown cloak and skirt.With that, she scooped up Peter in her arms and continued to walk towards Kensington Gardens, her heart in her throat._

**_What am I doing?_** _she wondered,_ ** _I could be arrested for kidnapping.Or worse.Why am I trusting this child?_**

_As if he could hear her thoughts, Peter frowned, wiggling in her arms.Green struggled to keep her grip on him, but he jumped out of her arms the second they reached the luscious green lawn of the park.Then, grinning wickedly at her, he broke into a run, heading directly for the fountains of the Italian Garden.Green, even more shocked by this turn of events, immediately chased after him.She stumbled around in her human shoes- she wasn’t used to wearing high heels; she was a servant, after all, and these were far too big for her -but she was determined to precede him before he simply ran into the middle of the ball she knew would be going on.The fairy court hid in lush green trees of the gardens during the day, but at night, they loved the fountains, and held great dances around them.No humans could see, naturally- the glamour prevented that -except Peter, apparently, upon whom glamours had no effect._

_She knew instantly the moment he arrived, for there was a woman’s annoyed drawl:_

_“Oh, a_ **_human._ ** _An unaccompanied child.However are we to get rid of him?”_

_Then she heard the immediate shrieks that followed as Peter answered her tartly:_

_“You won’t get rid of me!Not ‘til I talk to the king and queen!”_

_A great lump in her stomach, Green finally caught up to him.The shell-shocked fairy nobles- all wearing masks; they’d seemingly interrupted a masquerade -gazed from Peter to her, their eyes wide._

_“Green!You got big!” a fairy dressed in a gown of pale blue, decorated with pink flowers, forced her way through the crowd, “And you brought a human child to our midst?”At the reproach in the fairy’s tone, Green quickly returned to her normal size, shedding the glamour._

_“I’m so sorry, Mab,” she whispered, “He ran away from his house, and I was trying to bring him back-”_

_Mab blanched, “You_ **_dare_ ** _to address me by my given name? Me?You’re a_ **_peasant_ ** _,” she sneered, “and you have forgotten your place!” She removed her mask, wove her hand, and turned it into a white crystalline wand.She pointed it at Green, utterly incensed._

_At that moment, Peter stood before her and demanded, “Who are you?”He bent towards Mab, staring at her intently.Suddenly, Green felt very nervous, though if anyone asked, she couldn’t say why._

_“I am Her Royal Highness, Princess Mab Gorm, of the House of Reul,” Mab introduced herself, “sister to Her Majesty, Queen Titania Airgead, of the House of Reul.”_

_“And who are you?” a regal voice inquired.The fairy nobles parted instantly, creating a walkway for Queen Titania- who wore no mask -to freely approach the little group.The queen walked forward, giving the appearance of utter serenity.She bore no resemblance to Mab whatsoever.Her hair was a brilliant silver, though not that of old age.Rather, she appeared to reflect the light of the moon itself.Her eyes were a stunning dark blue, the exact same shade of the evening sky.Her long gown was also silver, though darker than her hair, and patterned with diamond stars.A matching tiara was balanced on her gently curling tresses.It was very obvious why Oberon had chosen Titania over her sister, and Peter instantly decided he preferred Titania as well:_

_“Your Majesty, my name is Peter Ponsoby.Pleased to meet you.”He bowed as best he could, considering he was so much bigger than the tiny, delicate queen.Smiling, she recognized the gesture and waved a hand, indicating he could stand- or at least sit up._

_“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Peter,” Titania returned. After a moment, she asked, “How is it that you can see us?”She clasped her hands expectantly._

_The boy shrugged, “I wished it.”_

_“You wished it?”_

_“I did.”_

_“Have you ever met a genie, Peter?” the fairy queen inquired, “That is how most wishes are granted.”_

_“No,” Peter replied, “I live with my parents.It’s very boring.The house is only them and servants.I have no one to play with-” abruptly, he cut himself off, as if remembering that this wasn’t why he had run to the fairy court tonight, “but I bet it would be interesting to meet a genie.”_

_“Most interesting,” Titania murmured, though Green thought the queen was referring more to Peter himself than the act of meeting a genie.The queen walked around Peter in a full circle, apparently examining him._

_“So you wished to see us, and so you could?”_

_“The second after I wished it, I saw my first fairy,” Peter said, flushing with pride.He pointed to Green, who was still standing stunned behind him._

_“But I thought you only saw me tonight,” Green whispered.She was frightened, as every head of the fairy court spun around to stare at her.Noblewomen glared at her with unabashed hatred, and the noblemen were muttering angrily to themselves._

_“I saw you very quickly,” Peter amended, “you flew around the corner and hid in a pot.I started to look for you after that, but I never met you ‘til tonight.Anyway, after that, I’ve seen plenty of fairies.My mama takes me here all the time.I saw tons of you.” He pointed to various members of the crowd, who all took a step back, blushing furiously._

_“But I never met any of you,” the toddler added, this time a bit sadly, “I wanted to, but now I do.You’ve got to help Green, Your Majesty.”_

_Titania raised her eyebrows, “I do?And why is that, pray tell?”Green looked at the ground, wishing she could melt into it.She didn’t think the queen disliked her- only Mab did, judging by the looks she was throwing her way -but they were very clearly of different stations._

_“Because Green wants to be a fairy godmother-”_

_Scandalized gasps ran through the crowd, and desperately, Green wanted more to disappear than she ever thought she could._

_“-and she said that only nobles could be fairy godmothers.”_

_The queen frowned, but it was the princess who retorted, “That’s true.Only highborn women understand the strict requirements and duties of being a fairy godmother. Green,” Mab practically hissed out the name, “is a commoner.”_

_Peter answered, “So make her a noble.The king does it all the time.”_

_“I’m afraid we aren’t human, Peter,” Titania explained, “We don’t do things the human way.”Although the words were firm, her eyes glittered with curiosity.She was clearly intrigued by what the boy would do.Would he give up, as he should?_

_“Oh, I know,” the toddler stated, “but our king only does it for people he likes, not people who should be nobles. Green should be a noble.She’s so nice, and she’d be a great fairy godmother!” he grew more and more enthusiastic as he talked, “I mean, yes, she’s a good tinker too, our pans are always perfect, but she can do so much more!She_ **_wants_ ** _to do more!She wants to help people.And isn’t that what nobles_ **_should_ ** _be doing?Helping people?That’s why nobles are supposed to be noble.To protect the commoners loyal to them.”Peter sat back on his heels, his words equally as strong as the queen’s._

_The fairies, meanwhile, were silent.They finally had understood what Green had:that Peter was most definitely not normal, whether as a three year old, or as a human._

_Just then, a nobleman took his mask off, “The boy’s right.A fine answer, Peter.”At the words, the entire court- with the exception of the queen -sunk into deep curtsies and bows.A man dressed in resplendent cloth of gold came to Titania’s side.He too wore a crown, and he could only be King Oberon._

_“Thank you, Your Majesty...?” Peter trailed off.He obviously knew that he was addressing a royal, but didn’t remember the name Green had mentioned earlier._

_“King Oberon,” the king supplied, greeting the boy with a great smile.He kissed his wife on the cheek, whispering something in her ear.Titania whispered back, and they came to an agreement._

_“My wife and I find you to be very interesting, Peter Ponsoby,” Oberon said, “You are like no child we have ever met, human or fairy.”_

_“Thank you,” Peter answered, grinning so wide Green swore she could see every single one of his bright white teeth.He gave Green a triumphant glance, as if to say, “I told you so.”_

_“Because of that, we have decided to grant your request.Green, you are now a lady.”_

_Green’s jaw dropped- as it had multiple times that night.The king laughed, and the queen smiled.Mab looked ready to murder her._

_“Oh!” Peter exclaimed, “and since she’s a lady, she needs a new name.Green told me only nobles and royalty get names.”_

_“Quite right,” Oberon said approvingly.He gazed at Peter in utter fascination, as if trying to unravel the mystery of him._

_“What name will you choose for yourself?” Titania asked._

_“I don’t know, Majesty,” Green admitted, “This is very sudden.I never expected this.”_

_“I have an idea,” Peter interjected.Green looked at him, at the strange boy who had brought her everything she’d ever wanted, and waited to see what he would say.Nervously- the only time she’d ever seen him nervous- he presented his suggestion:_

_“Mama is trying to teach me French.She told me “belle” means beautiful, and you are pretty.You also used to fix the pots and pans.Not anymore.But maybe you want to remember where you came from?So...Tinkerbelle?”_

_Green said nothing for a long moment, still trying to fathom what was happening._

_Anxiously, the toddler asked, “Do you like it?” He twisted his little chubby fists together._

_“I love it,” Green smiled, “though I don’t speak French.So maybe we can do without the e on the end.T-i-n-k-e-r-b-e-l-l,” she spelled out, “Tinkerbell.It’s wonderful.I would like that as my name, Your Majesties.”_

_“Very well,” King Oberon proclaimed as she knelt before him, “By the power of the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and all the magic given to us as king and queen of the fey,” he gestured to Titania, “we pronounce you Lady Tinkerbell, and you shall have your wish to be a fairy godmother.”The royal couple waved their hands, and Tinkerbell’s plain green dress was replaced by a gown of bright, shimmering green.She spun around, delighted with the change of outfit, and cried out:_

_“Thank you, Your Majesties!Thank you!”_

_“Tinkerbell, this is great!” Peter grinned, “I told you I could do it.You can be a fairy godmother!” shyly, he asked, “and now that you can...would you be mine?”_

_“Certainly not,” Mab sniffed, “_ **_I_ ** _train the fairy godmothers, and Tinkerbell,” she made the name like dirt, “hasn’t even waved a wand.It will be a long time before she’s a fairy godmother.A very long time.”_

_“Oh,” Peter said, a bit disappointed._

_“I will be your fairy godmother, Peter.”_

_At that, Mab was the one whose jaw dropped.Queen Titania walked towards the toddler, her pronouncement hanging in the air between them:_

_“If you will have me.”Murmurs filled the gardens.The queen, of course, had unlimited powers.She could supersede her sister and become a fairy godmother without being trained.However, she’d never shown an interest in it before._

_“Thank you,” Peter said.He blinked, slightly puzzled by Titania’s decision, but he accepted it nonetheless.He felt, in some way, that what was happening was momentous, even if he didn’t understand the implications._

_“You’re welcome,” Titania answered, “You must go now, Peter.Morning approaches, and I know that you will be missed come sunrise.Certainly, we shall miss you too.Return to us when you can.”_

_“I will,” the boy replied, thrilled to have met the fairies._

_“Your Majesties,” Tinkerbell said, “If it pleases you, may I escort Peter back to his mansion?A small child would look amiss on the streets.”_

_“As you say, Lady Tinkerbell,” Oberon acknowledged her assertion, “but return to us soon, for you will begin training.”_

_Tinkerbell promised to do so, and with that, she increased her size, restored the glamour, and picked Peter up once more._

_As they made their way back to the Ponsoby mansion, Peter smiled at her, “Tinkerbell, I know you can’t be my fairy godmother, but you can still be my fairy right?”_

_Without even a second’s hesitation, Tinkerbell said, “Yes, Peter.I’ll be your fairy.And I’ll come to visit you when I can.”He threw his arms around her shoulders, and she couldn’t hide her happiness from him.She owed him everything, and so it was that she risked tiptoeing up the stairs all the way to his nursery and returned him to his crib.She felt wrong just leaving him to wander about the great house by himself._

_“You’d better!” Peter reproached her playfully.However, it seemed he’d expended all his energy for the night, for he let out a great yawn._

_“I will,” Tinkerbell promised, “and I’ll always look out for you.” She drew the covers over him, but he was already fast asleep, a smile on his face._

* * *

Wendy didn’t even know what to think of Tink’s story.She sat on the couch, completely flabbergasted. 

“Peter is the reason you became a fairy godmother?And he picked your _name_?”

“Yes.” 

“But he exiled you.” 

“Yes.” 

“So that shows he cares?”

“When Blue ripped my wings off,” Tink’s voice became bitter, “Peter and Felix murdered all the fairies on the island,” at Wendy’s horrified face, Tink said dryly, “Oh, Peter probably told you the court moved.No.Blue said she didn’t believe in me, and it ripped my wings off.I told Felix.They promptly killed every single fairy in Neverland- except me,” she shrugged, taking another sip of whiskey, “They did it for me.It was revenge.Peter cared about me, and trust me, he is more than capable of caring about you.” 

Trying to avoid that direction of conversation, Wendy asked, “What’s Reul mean?” 

Tink turned to face her, “ _What_?” 

“You said Titania and Mab were from the House of Reul.What’s it mean?It sounds like another language.” 

“It is.It means ‘Star.’Their family claimed they were born of the stars themselves, so they called themselves the House of Stars.Titania’s dead, but you know Mab, actually,” Tinkerbell noted, “Mab Ghorm Reul.‘Ghorm Reul’ means ‘Blue Star.’”

“The _Blue Fairy?”_

_“_ Yup,” Tink confirmed, “She was a bitch then, and she’s a bitch.Powerful bitch, though.She’s technically Queen Mab now.Ugh.I definitely do _not_ want to think about that.I’m going to bed,” she handed a flustered Wendy the bottle. 

“Wait- Tink- you need to tell me what happened.With Peter.How did he go from a toddler who went up to the fairy king and queen and demanded you be a fairy godmother to boy who murdered the same fairies!?”

“You already know some of that, Wendy,” Tink said wearily, “Besides, a lot of it he should tell you.We all have our secrets, including him.Not saying he’s right, but it’s true.All I’ll tell you is that he made Neverland.That’s it,” she paused, raising a hand to her head and rubbing her temples, “Ugh.I am going to have a killer headache tomorrow.Wake me up and make me go to school anyway.I don’t want any more surprise chats in the living room.” 

With that, she strode up the stairs to her room, ignoring Wendy’s protests. 

* * *

The next day, Ferdinand approached Wendy at her locker. 

“Hey, Gwen,” the prince said, smiling at her.It took Wendy a few seconds to respond- she’d spent most of last night thinking over Peter’s words and Tink’s story.Now, she felt so ashamed when she heard the name.Luckily, those closest to her had stopped calling her Gwen. Even Grace and Gretel had stopped since Pan’s reappearance.Although those two didn’t call her Wendy, either.They simply addressed her.Wendy didn’t blame them.It had to be confusing.Besides, anyone could see the way Pan looked at her- they wouldn’t want to draw his attention to themselves, though, of course, Wendy knew he noticed them, as he noticed everyone around her. 

“Hi, Ferdinand,” she greeted him, forcing a smile onto her face.He was handsome- in a different way than Peter -and he genuinely seemed interested in her.Unfortunately, she couldn’t focus on him- even if Pan wasn’t directly watching this exchange, Felix was.Anything they said would be reported back to Peter.She subtly shot Tinkerbell a glance, hoping the fairy could distract Felix, but the Lost Boy kept his eyes trained on Wendy and the prince. 

“So,” Ferdinand whispered conspiratorially, “You haven’t been answering my texts.” He crossde his arms, leaning against the locker next to hers. 

“I’ve been...busy,” Wendy supplied.She left the rest of the sentence unsaid: _Trying to keep a serial killer away from me and from hurting anyone else.Oh, and also trying to keep my grades up. And recover from the deaths of my friends- caused by said serial killer.Who likes to sneak into my bedroom at night.And give me speeches on my own morals._

_“_ Well,” Ferdinand said, oblivious to her inner turmoil, “Do you still want to go? On Friday?”

“Go?” Wendy repeated. _Go where?We can’t go anywhere where Peter won’t find us.What’s the point?I can’t even get dinner without him._

“Wendy,” a rather pissed off Tinkerbell interjected (she was severely regretting the fact she’d told Wendy to wake her up this morning, but nevertheless, she wasn’t going to let Wendy do something equally as stupid), “You have plans on Friday. Remember?We made plans.”She tugged on Wendy’s arm, her grip tight, and that’s what it came to Wendy:the Halloween dance.Ferdinand still wanted to go to the dance with her, after everything.Part of her was flattered- he must have really liked Gwen.Another part of her wondered if he had a death wish- because Gwen didn’t exist; Wendy Darling did.

Still, even if Peter had Storybrooke locked in his grip, everyone else in the town seemed to be ignoring his presence, at least for a little.Maybe she could too.Especially since Peter couldn’t kill anyone.And especially after the horrible things he’d said to her- a person Tink had insisted he cared about.She’d tossed and turned all night, crying and infuriated and shamed all at once.Sleep hadn’t been an option, and it was all Pan’s _fault._ Why didn’t he understand it wasn’t that she wanted to forget her family?It was, as Tink said, that she wanted to forget _him._

“I hope those plans are to go to the dance with me,” Ferdinand smiled at Wendy.Feeling brave, and angry, and hurt- completely unlike herself, except for the hurt part -Wendy smiled back, then brazenly winked at him: 

“I’ll text you.” 

If Peter really hated that she’d made a new life without him, she might as well take advantage of it.It was the smallest of ways she could pay him back for what he’d done to her.; what he’s said to her.Ferdinand waved and went off to class, pleased with the promise- and having utterly no idea of her motive. Quickly, Wendy fired off a message rapid-fire on her phone, shifting slightly so Felix couldn’t see over her shoulder: 

_They do.I just don’t want Felix to overhear it._

Immediately, Ferdinand texted her back: 

_Yeah, I’ve noticed him following you everywhere.It’s like he’s your big brother or something lol._

_Something like that,_ Wendy replied. 

If her big brother enjoyed clubbing people’s heads in. 

* * *

_Wendy knocked on the side of the Jolly Roger.Smee, the first mate, looked over the edge and saw her treading water.Eyes widened, he shouted:_

_“Captain!Captain!”_

_A few seconds later, Hook, rubbing his eyes, growled:_

_“What is it, Smee?I was_ **busy** _.”_

_“I know, Captain,” Smee said apologetically, “but there’s a girl overboard.” He didn’t know how else to put it._

_“A girl?” Hook said, confused.Then, instantly, he was awake, barking out commands as he ran to the bow:_

_“Pull her up then!There are bloody mermaids everywhere, and God knows what Pan will do to us if they eat Wendy Darling.”He knew it had to be her.After all, there were no girls on Neverland but Wendy.The last time he’d put Wendy in danger- merely by holding her hostage -there had been a mass murder on his ship.He didn’t want to think about what would happen if the girl actually_ **_died._ **

_Immediately, a rope was thrown over, and Wendy clung to it as she was hoisted aboard.Her white nightgown was soaked, and a few pirates’ eyes flocked to her before Hook removed his black leather jacket and placed it around her shoulders._

_“Come in, love.”He directed her to a smaller cabin next to his.She looked at him, confused- why weren’t they going into his cabin?Sensing her confusion, Hook shrugged:_

_“It’s a bit...messy in there right now.I’m guessing you’re here for something serious, and I’d rather discuss it somewhere serious. Smee, luckily for us, keeps his cabin bloody immaculate.” He gestured around with his hook, and true to his word, the cabin- albeit almost entirely bare of furniture except for a bed, small table, chair, and chest beneath the bed -was incredibly clean._

_Wendy raised an eyebrow.Hook’s cabin, the last time she’d seen it, had been very neat.Why couldn’t they go in?Still, if the pirate didn’t want to share, she wouldn’t press him. She was the one asking for favors, after all._

_They both stood in Smee’s cabin, even though Hook pulled out the lone chair for her to sit.While Wendy appreciated the chivalry, she wanted him to see her as an equal.He_ **needed** _to, if he was going to agree to her proposal._

_“I need your help,” she began, but Hook immediately cut her off:_

_“Lass, if you’re going to ask me to take you off Neverland, I can’t.Not if I want to keep my crew and I breathing, which I would like to.”_

_Wendy shook her head, “I know.I’m not asking for that.It’s just- you’ve seen the changes in Neverland, haven’t you?Animals are starving, and they’re dying off fast because the Lost Boys are hunting them so quickly.There’s no fish left for the mermaids, and I think they’re starting to eat the Lost Boys,” she shuddered, “The Indians, too, have nothing to eat.Pan imagines things, but he can’t imagine enough prey for everyone,” she shrugged, “Yet you and your crew seem well-fed.”_

_Hook riposted, “As do you, Miss Darling.The Lost Boys don’t seem to be suffering much either, judging by how often they’ve been trying to attack my ship.”He crossed his arms, and she couldn’t deny it.Groups of Lost Boys went after the Jolly Roger every few days.She wasn’t sure whether it was to amuse themselves, take out their anger on Hook, or both._

_As such, Wendy looked away, “I can imagine some things for myself.When I try, I can imagine some for the Lost Boys, but I don’t have the same powers Peter does-”_

_“Pan is having trouble imagining things?” Hook mused, “How interesting.Are his powers waning?”His blue eyes glittered.If Pan’s powers were decreasing, then perhaps he could escape.Perhaps, finally, he could get his Crocodile.And his crew, incidentally, would all make it out alive._

_“I don’t think so,” Wendy replied immediately, “I think the changes on the island surprised him, and he’s still adjusting.The land itself still obeys his every whim,” she shook her head, “but that’s not the point._ **All** _of your crew seem well-fed.How is that?”_

_A clearly disappointed Hook answered, “After Pan slaughtered my first crew, he granted my ship power, for a limited time, to leave Neverland.I had twenty-four hours to find a new crew, which I did.At first, Pan was going to take away the magic that let my ship and I go free for a day, but then he realized he could use me for missions in other worlds.So I still have it.Twice a month I can go free- more than that if he sends me away.”_

_Wendy deduced, “So when you’re away, that’s when you get your food.”Hook nodded his assent, and she said:_

_“You have to get more.For the Indians and the mermaids-”_

_“And the Lost Boys?” Hook scoffed, “Sorry, love.I’m not going to feed my enemies.”_

_“If you don’t bring food for the island,” Wendy stood straighter, “or at least more animals so they can breed, I’ll tell Peter you tried to kill me.”She stared directly into his eyes, deadly serious.She might not like Peter, especially after what he’d done to her, but she knew at least some of the extent of how he considered her...special.He didn’t love her, she knew that, but he at least regarded her as one of his prized possessions. She was unique; a girl from his old world.Someone whom he never would have met, but now had at his side forever.A boy who thought himself different from all others liked the idea of having things that were different from all others, and Wendy knew that she was that to him- a thing different from all others._

_“He knows I would never do something so stupid,” Hook replied, “Not after what he did last time-” The pirate was clearly incredulous at the suggestion._

_“Rufio told me he’s gone mad,” Wendy declared the fatal words, “I don’t think he cares much for particulars regarding you.He hates you, and I guarantee he’ll kill your crew again, and take your ship’s power, and then where will you be?” the girl asked, “Starving and alone.”_

_Hook paused, then said, “You drive a hard bargain, love.But just how am I going to have money for this?And how are you planning on explaining this to Pan?”_

_“The same way you’ve been getting money all along,” Wendy replied, “Piracy.And I’m not going to explain it to him.As far as you and I are concerned, this is our secret, and if you get enough animals and food, you will never have to do it again- he’ll have had time to adjust and he’ll be able to imagine more.But until then, we have to survive somehow.”_

_“Very true, Darling,” Hook admitted.Then, strangely, he smiled at her, “You know, I think you would have made a bloody good pirate.”_

_“What are you talking about?” Wendy demanded, “I would never-” Her cheeks flushed with indignation._

_“You’re willing to use people to get what you want,” Hook said, “Just like the rest of us.But unlike the rest of us,” he mused, “what you want is to help everyone else.”_

* * *

Before lunch, Wendy went into the bathroom to talk to Grace and Gretel.It was the only place she felt comfortable talking to them without being overheard- and she had to apologize to them.She didn’t expect their friendship to revert back to what it was before, but she had to make them understand.Sort of.Tink had followed her, as she always did, but the fairy- who was completely miserable -declared she wasn’t about to go to the bathroom.That left her waiting outside- with Felix. 

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Wendy stood nervously before her friends. 

“Guys, I’m so sorry.It’s just- I’m afraid,” she confessed, “I’m worried he’ll hurt you.You don’t understand what he does; how he operates...”

“We know he kills people,” Grace said darkly. 

Gretel interjected, “Why won’t you let us help you?We get it, you’ve fought him before, and you had to do it by yourself.With no one except Tinkerbell for help.I understand why you’d turn to her first.You fought together for years-”

“Not exactly,” Wendy demurred, but Gretel merely continued on: 

“-and yeah, it completely sucks that you ignored us for her.So don’t do it anymore.”

“We understand why,” Grace added, “You’re trying to protect us, but we’re not helpless.We can help you!”Her eyes were wide and sincere. 

Wendy sighed.Against Peter, the two girls _were_ helpless.They knew nothing about him, but he knew, she was certain, everything about them.They were only safe so long as they stayed out of the game-

-though what if he didn’t know they were playing? 

Heart pounding, Wendy said, “I need you to get a message to the mayor.Tell her I have to see her, alone, and not to tell _anyone._ And you two can’t tell anyone either.” 

“Why not just call her?” Gretel asked, eyebrows furrowed.She fingered her own cell phone- tiny, bejeweled, and pink -as if considering making Wendy call that second. 

“Felix is around me all the time,” Wendy pointed out, “at my house, at school...and Pan is too.Pan will know if I say it.I just know he will,” she bit her lip, “but if _you_ do it...look, this is how you can help me.Don’t try anything else.Don’t _do_ anything else.And I know it sounds crazy-” the girl found herself babbling, struggling to explain the intricacies of Neverland games to two girls who were decidedly not from Neverland- and, she prayed, never would be. 

“Okay,” Gretel said simply. 

“What?” Wendy asked, still ensconced in worry over the possibility of Gretel and Grace in Neverland. 

“Okay, we’ll do it, and we’ll help you,” Grace noted, “but just do me one favor,” she grinned, “I want my seat back.Have Tinkerbell sit on your other side.” 

Despite herself, Wendy couldn’t help but smile. 

* * *

 

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, Felix- per usual -was silent with his arms crossed over his chest.Tinkerbell did her best to stay quiet herself.At first, she too leaned against the wall, but her head was pounding.Sighing, she slid to the floor, her jeans snagging slightly on a nail sticking out of the wall. 

“Really?” she muttered.As she tugged the pale blue material off the nail, she realized Felix was staring at her. 

“What?” the fairy demanded, “I don’t have to play your strong-and-silent game today.”

Felix raised an eyebrow, “‘Strong and silent?’” 

“Yes,” Tink retorted, “Just whatever you’re thinking.Out with it.”God, her head hurt.She grabbed the elastic holding her hair in a messy bun and yanked it out of her hair, golden waves tumbling over the shoulders.Idly, she inspected a few strands.It was frizzy.Damn it.Why had Wendy let her out of the house like this?

“You don’t look like yourself,” Felix drawled.His eyes drifted over her, from the frayed gray T-shirt that exposed her shoulders to the sneakers on her feet. 

“Me?” Tink almost snorted with laughter, “I don’t look like myself?That would be a shock to you.Do you even _own_ any other clothes?”She gestured to his customary brown sweatshirt. 

At that comment, the Lost Boy said, a bit coldly, “You’re not acting like yourself either.”

“You mean I’m not afraid of Pan?” Tink ran a hand through her hair.She was completely unaware how Felix’s gaze followed the track of her fingers. 

“Believe me, I’m still afraid of him.I always am.But right now I have a killer headache and I’m paying more attention to that than him.Kind of refreshing, actually,” Tinkerbell mused. 

“You’re drunk,” Felix said flatly.This time his voice was filled with disapproval, and the fairy bristled with indignation: 

“Oh, please.I’m not drunk.I’m _hungover._ But then again, you wouldn’t know about that, would you?It’s such an adult thing,” she taunted him, a bit unsure where these words were coming from, or the venom in them.After all, she had ended the relationship with Felix.He hadn’t done anything to her- he’d never even yelled at her for it.He’d been devastated, she knew- for she had listened in the Neverland forests as Pan comforted him, telling him how _fickle_ girls were -though he’d quickly hidden his sorrow.As her thoughts drifted to Pan, she realized the source of her harsh words:Pan had ended Felix’s and her relationship, not her.Pan had decided to take revenge in Storybrooke.Pan would bar her from ever being together with Felix, even if Felix had some delusion that he’d reconsider.The fairy knew that, inherently, and as she could hardly take out her anger on Pan, she was pushing it onto Felix instead. 

She hated herself for it. 

_How strange,_ Tinkerbell thought, _that the boy who gave me everything would be the same boy to take it all away from me._

As if summoned by her thoughts, Pan himself appeared, descending down the stairs towards the cafeteria,gaggle of Lost Boys- old and new -following him.He waved them ahead, and they obeyed, chattering as they went to their customary table.The older boys- Slightly, Nibs, Curly, and Gavin -warily watched their leader, but nonetheless obeyed. The younger ones didn’t know the danger posed by a Peter who went off alone. 

Still, he wasn’t alone for long.He’d spotted Felix, and deduced Wendy’s location.Pan looked confused by Tink’s disheveled state, but Felix offered no information on the subject when he walked over to talk to his leader by the stairwell- where Tink couldn’t overhear them.They whispered for a few seconds, and Pan’s gaze darkened. 

“He’ll pay,” Peter snarled, this time audible enough for Tink to hear clearly.Somehow, she found it in herself to pity whoever had drawn Pan’s ire this time.Then the two boys walked over to Tinkerbell. 

Pan cocked his head, “You said she’s hungover?” Despite the fact he was standing directly in front of the fairy, he was addressing Felix.The Lost Boy nodded. 

“Take her home then,” Peter said. 

Felix blanched, surprised, “You don’t need me here?I thought-”

“I don’t plan on leaving Wendy’s side for the rest of the day,” Pan answered, “Besides, Tink clearly is in no state to take care of herself.” 

“I can take care of myself fine, thanks,” the fairy nearly snarled, but the two boys ignored her. 

“Clearly, you can’t,” Peter rolled his eyes, “so Felix will.Report back to me later.” 

“Come on,” Felix told Tinkerbell, lugging her to her feet. Despite her copious protests, he pulled her into his arms and carried her out of the school. 

* * *

_“Wendy, I know what you made Hook do,” Peter grinned, “and I must say, it was a rather ingenious manipulation, one I wouldn’t have expected you to do,” he mused, “so you_ **_do_ ** _care for the island.”He seemed thrilled by the prospect, though he also sounded as if he knew he’d won._

_Carefully, Wendy replied, “I care for the people on it.They need to survive-”_

_“And they have,” Peter finished smoothly, “Thanks to your delay tactic, my powers are now restored.Neverland, though, is still fading.I cannot allow that to happen.”He looked at Wendy, a fanatical light in his eyes, but she didn’t answer him._

_“I know of some people who I believe can provide the solution to this problem, but they don’t live in Neverland, the Enchanted Forest, or the Land Without Magic.”_

_Wendy looked at him quizzically, “Peter, what are you talking about?”_

_“There are many dimensions and many worlds.I have been to countless.In my travels, I have come across one world where all manner of logic and magic seems to be upside down.I plan to go and pay a visit to those I met,” Peter paused, “Would you like to come?”_

_“_ **_What_ ** _?” Wendy asked.Of all things she expected him to say, this was not it._

_“You showed you care about Neverland.I do as well.You can come with me, and see what I am willing to do for it,” Pan said.His words sounded like a sinister promise- if a sincere one.Wendy wasn’t keen to travel with Peter, but if it meant leaving the island behind for even a little...she swallowed and nodded._

_“Good,” Pan smirked, “but first...” he put both hands on her shoulders and yanked hard.Wendy gasped as her shadow was pulled away from her. She stared at it, wide-eyed.Her shadow, which sported blue eyes (unlike Peter’s Shadow, which had gold), likewise looked back at her in shock.The smoky black figure was undoubtedly hers, complete with bow in her hair and the faintest outline of a nightgown._

_“It’s a bit of a shock, the first time a shadow gets separated,” Peter explained, “Don’t worry, he’ll stay with her,” he gestured to his Shadow, “She’ll be fine.”Then he addressed Wendy’s shadow directly:_

_“Stay with my Shadow, and no harm will come to you.Don’t worry, you’ll be reunited with Wendy soon.”_

_Then Peter held out his hand to her and took her into the sky.They flew for a few minutes, straight up into the stars.Then, suddenly, abruptly, they turned left, and the stars started to grow farther and farther apart and the space between them was filled with blackness.There seemed to be no end to the vastness, and Wendy, for a dreadful instant, was terrified she’d guaranteed her death by allowing Peter to take her into this nothingness.Pan, for his part, was evidently enjoying himself.He was muttering under his breath, and to her astonishment, she realized he was counting._

_“Twenty-four!” the boy said triumphantly, and as the sound of the number echoed around them, Wendy and Peter hurtled towards a star.Wendy screamed, wind coming from nowhere and tearing at her hair and her nightgown.Pan yelled, but his was a shout of exultation as they grew closer and closer to their destination, the lights of other stars winking around them. The stars all seemed to blur into one, and then there was a great flash.The girl struggled to breathe as she flipped over and over in some hazy clouds, but Peter grabbed her and drew her from the mist.He held her close as they flew downwards, and the girl tried desperately to get her bearings and slow her frantically racing heart._

_When they landed, Wendy turned around in astonishment.Great purple clouds floated in the sky, and hedges twisted up them around on all sides.Before her was what looked like a great chessboard, the squares wider than her entire house in London._

_“Where are we?” she asked, unable to hold the question in.After the journey she’d had, she at least had to know what world she’d suffered for; where they’d ended up._

_“Wonderland,” Peter replied.After a moment, he added, “Don’t eat or drink anything, no matter who offers it to you.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her along after him.He clearly knew her well enough to realize she would be looking everywhere but the road ahead.She was too fascinated by her surroundings, even though she was still trying to calm down._

_“Where are we going?” Wendy asked, staring at a large statue of a chess piece.It was a bishop, and it looked down at her.His expression was stern, almost as if he was rebuking her for living with a boy while they were unmarried, him regularly sleeping in her bed with her only in her nightgown._

_“To see the queens.”_

_“The queens?” Wendy emphasized the plural, “There’s more than one?”Peter was striding down the chessboard, and Wendy hurried after him._

_“Of course,” Peter explained, “Wonderland, unlike Neverland, has many rulers.There’s constant infighting among them as to who truly rules Wonderland.”_

_“Who does?”_

_“That’s a matter of opinion.If you go to the south, then the Red King rules, but we aren’t seeking out the Red King.We’re looking for the Three Queens- the Queen of Diamonds, the Queen of Spades, and the Queen of Clubs.”_

_Wendy’s eyes widened, “Like playing cards, you mean?”_

_Peter smirked, “Not exactly, but if it helps you to remember their names that way, then do so.They are three sisters, who at the moment, lay claim to the north.The Queen of Diamonds has a dazzling array of the jewels from which she draws her name.She also wields magic with them.The Queen of Clubs is the only woman I have ever met who wields a weapon with a skill that almost rivals mine.She has no magic of her own.The Queen of Spades holds power over the vines and flowers of Wonderland.She is most creative with them.The Queen of Clubs and the Queen of Spades work together to rid themselves of rivals for the throne- on kills them, and the other buries them.It is their greatest desire to see the Red King dead.”_

_“Why are we seeking them out if they want to kill people?”_

_“Because they have respect for me as a ruler of another world.We get along, the queens and I,” he didn’t offer any more explanation.Instead, he reached into his pockets, producing a bag of diamonds, “Here, take these.When we visit, they will expect gifts.”_

_They walked for some time, until at last they came before a tall castle.Its spires were thin, but surrounded by all manner of vines and flowers.At the approach, the flowers turned towards them, and Wendy bit back a gasp when she saw they had faces._

_“Please let Their Majesties know Peter Pan requests an audience,” Peter told the flowers.There was a soft whispering as the flowers communicated the message to each other, and the vines trembled as the message spread upwards and inside the castle. Then, the vines receded as the castle doors swung open to greet them._

_There was a great array of stairs before them.At the top of the stairs stood a woman clothed in white and silver, her hair covered by a veil of crystal- no, Wendy, reminded herself, diamonds.For this woman could only be she._

_“Greetings, Peter Pan,” she smiled warmly at him, and Pan smiled equally as wide at her._

_“Greetings, Your Majesty.It is good to see you.”_

_“And you,” the Queen of Diamonds’ eyes flicked to Wendy, “and who is this?Have you taken a consort, Peter Pan?”_

_Wendy blushed, but Peter took the comment in stride, completely ignoring the queen’s question, “May I introduce Wendy Moira Angela Darling?”_

_Uncertain of what else to do, Wendy curtsied and murmured, “It’s a pleasure to meet Your Majesty.”_

_“Likewise,” the Queen of Diamonds replied.She surveyed Wendy’s outfit, and the girl could tell the queen was trying to take stock of her._

_“As always, it is lovely to see you, Your Majesty,” Peter interjected, “but may I ask whereTheir Majesties the Queen of Clubs and the Queen of Spades are?I had hoped to see them today as well.”_

_The Queen of Diamonds rolled her eyes, sighing, “I’m afraid they’re indisposed.They’re taking care of another pretender.Some chit calling herself the Queen of Hearts.We’ll be rid of her shortly, and then we can focus on the Red King.Come, though.I’m sure you have things you wish to discuss; we can do so in my throne room.” She waved them up, and Peter clasped Wendy’s hand in his as he slowly flew them up the stairs.The queen smiled again, then turned and swept away.Wendy forced herself to follow and not have her jaw drop at the strangeness of her surroundings._

_Once they were inside, the Queen of Diamonds swept up a further set of stairs onto a dais where her throne- of course, carved of diamond -rested.There were a few swirling letters in there, which Wendy realized had to be her name:Alichantra.If she twisted her head just so, she could read the writing carefully etched into the throne:Her Majesty, Alichantra of Wonderland, Queen of Diamonds and Seer of the Realm.Heiress to the most royal and ancient Lewyssian Dynasty, and True Monarch of Wonderland.Wendy couldn’t help but notice that“monarch” was in the singular.And Seer of the Realm?What on earth did that mean?_

_“You seem interested in my throne, Wendy Darling,” the queen noted.She smiled lazily, but there wasn’t any warmth in it._

_“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful, Your Majesty,” Wendy said carefully, “and I have never been to Wonderland before, so I am most eager to learn its history.What better way than through its true monarch?”_

_At this, the queen revealed a genuine smile, “Indeed.I do share the throne with my sisters,” she gestured to the thrones on either side of hers.One, made of rough-hewn stone, had to belong to the Queen of Clubs.Etched on her throne were the words:Her Majesty, Calixta of Wonderland, Queen of Clubs and Protector of the Realm.Heiress to the most royal and ancient Lewyssian Dynasty.Unlike the Queen of Diamonds’ throne, the title ended there- it seemed there wasn’t enough room to finish the title.The other was made entirely of what looked like vines and was covered in flowers.It wouldn’t have looked that out of place in the old Neverland, the Neverland that she had first visited.Her title read:Her Majesty, Élira of Wonderland, Queen of Spades and Keeper of the Realm.Heiress to the most royal and ancient Lewyssian Dynasty.Likewise, the Queen of Spades‘ throne did not have enough room to complete the title._

_Or at least, Wendy supposed that was the story the Queen of Diamonds would tell them, if they asked._

_“We are triplets, you see, and our parents were slain when we were twelve years old by the father of the usurper who calls himself the Red King.He claims that our parents were insane, but usurpers will say anything to take the throne.”_

_“No one can doubt it belongs to you,” Peter said smoothly. The queen smiled at him:_

_“Ah, Peter.No one can doubt you can be quite charming when you wish.But as wonderful as it is to see you, I know that you aren’t here to chat.I don’t see any boys with you, so you can’t be wanting to take them from Wonderland.”_

_“Your Majesty, you know how much I care for my realm.I would do anything for it.However, something is destroying it.It must be stopped.I could think of none other to plead for advice from than you.After all, the diamonds show you the truth.”_

_The queen was silent for a while, and Peter took that as his cue to proffer his gift.He pulled a massive diamond out of his pouch, one so large it was nearly the size of Wendy’s closed fist.Taking her cues from him, Wendy held her own sack of smaller diamonds forward.The queen smiled, accepted the gifts, and noted, “As always, you have exquisite taste, Peter.Now, what would you have me ask of the diamonds?”_

_“What I need to do to heal Neverland.”_

_The Queen of Diamonds nodded, then undid her veil.She placed it in her lap, and gazed into the diamonds expectantly.Suddenly, they began to flash, and her eyes dilated and turned a bright violet.She murmured words to herself in a language Wendy didn’t recognize.The queen gazed into the diamonds for a full minute before seemingly returning to normal, her eyes fading to a deep blue._

_“Neverland can be restored, but it must be done through the Heart of the Truest Believer.That heart is a very special heart- it belongs to one with extraordinary imagination and limitless faith.He must come to Neverland, and you, Peter Pan, must get him to believe in you.”_

_Peter shrugged, “Simple enough.Where can I find him?”_

_“He is not yet born.He will hail from the Land Without Magic, but you won’t find him for centuries.”_

_“How long?” Peter said through gritted teeth, “In the time of the Land Without Magic.”_

_“I believe it is a hundred years there.But in Neverland-”_

_“That’s too long,” Peter muttered, “That’s 36,500 years in Neverland.The island won’t last.”_

_Startled, Wendy gazed at him.She’d never heard him express doubt in Neverland before.He had always regarded the island as eternal- and now he was openly acknowledging that it was very, very mortal._

_The Queen of Diamonds paused, “Would Neverland last a hundred years?”_

_“About a hundred fifty,” Peter stated.Wendy wondered how he could estimate that.Could he discern that, simply from his intimate bond with the island?_

_“Then perhaps I can help you here as well,” the queen mused, “I have a spell that will allow you to slow time in Neverland to match that of the Land Without Magic.A hundred years in Neverland will match a hundred years in the Land Without Magic.You will be able to wait for the arrival of the boy, but this magic comes with a price.”_

_“I’ll pay it,” Peter said automatically._

_The queen said, “Very well.In order to change time, we must alter time’s existence somewhere else.You, Peter, must temporarily share your immortality.The magic controlling your eternal lifespan will help slow the passage of the years.I warn you, though, that this sharing cannot last forever.Once a hundred years have passed, you must get the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer to believe in you with all his might.Then, you must take his heart and replace your own with it.If you do this, Neverland will be restored, your immortality will return, and all shall be well.But if you fail, you shall die, and the island will be lost.”_

_Peter smirked at her, “Peter Pan never fails.”He held out his hand, and the queen gave him a small diamond._

_“When you return home, you must take the diamond, press it into your palm ‘til you draw blood, then drop it into the great hourglass that controls the time of your island.Then you will wait.In the meantime, to aid your search for the boy, here is what the diamonds showed me of him.”She waved her hand, and a piece of parchment appeared in it.The boy had a pale face, blue eyes, and floppy black hair.Wendy stared- he seemed so young._

_“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Peter said, fingering the gem in his hand.He gazed at the parchment for a moment, then pocketed it.After, he looked up at the queen, “Let me know, Your Majesty, if you ever need aid in ruling your own realm.”_

_The Queen of Diamonds smiled, this time her eyes glittering like the gems she took her name from, “I’ll send for you when that day comes.”_

_With those words, Wendy realized the truth:the Queen of Diamonds planned to kill the Red King, then kill her sisters.She wanted to be the sole, true, monarch of Wonderland.Not the Queen of Diamonds, but Alichantra, Queen of Wonderland._

_And Peter had just promised he’d help her do it._

_“We must protect our realms, and I am glad to help you do so, as you have so graciously helped me with mine.”_

* * *

With the promise made, Wendy emerged from the bathroom, Gretel and Grace at her sides.They’d been talking- it had felt _good_ to laugh again, their friendship healing a bit -but the laughter died quickly when they’d spotted who was waiting for them. 

“Hello, Wendy.” 


	20. You Take a Mortal Man, and Put Him in Control, Watch Him Become a God- Watch People's Heads A'roll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out and thank you to all who have given kudos, commented, and followed me thus far. Particular thanks to Jilveny. Your comment made me even more inspired! Hope you all enjoy!

Wendy stood stock still, rooted to the floor outside the bathroom.  Grace and Gretel had been chatting and laughing next to her, but their voices fell silent when their eyes lay upon the very boy Wendy had warned them against.  Despite their bravado, the two girls were dumbstruck, and it was Wendy- as it always was Wendy -who responded to him:   
    “Hello, Peter.  What are you doing here?”   
    Peter shrugged, “I do go to school here.” His tone was simultaneously flippant and unrepentant.  He obviously didn’t need the schooling provided here.    
    “I mean what are you doing waiting outside the girls’ bathroom,” Wendy changed her phrasing.  They both knew the answer- he was waiting for her -but she was curious as to his motive as to why, this time, he was waiting for her, and why he was being so blatant about it.  He had literally been standing outside the bathroom, keeping his gaze fixed on the door.  More than a few students had cast curious glances at him, but as usual, he didn’t care.      
    “It’s lunchtime,” Pan replied, “I thought we could have lunch together.”  Now, his tone held none of the smugness from before.  In fact, he sounded sincere.  From anyone else, it might have been a genuine, innocent invitation, but Wendy knew better.    
    Warily, Wendy pointed out, “I eat lunch with Grace, Gretel, and Tinkerbell.”  As she said the fairy’s name, she realized, with a start, that Tinkerbell was not where Wendy had left her.  Instead of being annoyed and slumped against the wall, watched over by Felix, she had disappeared entirely.  Logically, Wendy told herself that Tink was probably already in the cafeteria- maybe Felix had insisted she get some water.   Still, it didn’t keep her heart from pounding with fear.  The last time Tink disappeared, Wendy hadn’t seen her again until the Charmings arrived on the island.  Frantic with concern, she demanded:   
    “Where’s Tinkerbell?”  
    “Felix took her home,” Peter said, “It was fairly obvious she couldn’t take care of herself-”   
    “Peter, don’t you dare lie to me!” Wendy nearly snarled.  Gretel and Grace, startled by the fury and fear in Wendy’s reaction, practically jumped a mile away from her.  Pan’s eyes shifted towards the two girls, and he smiled darkly.  They were scared.  How pathetic.  And of Wendy!  Or, he mused, perhaps not of Wendy.  Perhaps of who Wendy really was:  the resilient, eternal girl who fought her destiny, who tried to protect the weak, and who challenged his actions.  Maybe they were seeing her for the first time now, not a girl wearing a brand new skirt and sequined sweater, but rather a girl in a tattered nightgown, with flowers in her hair, dirt under her nails, and perhaps even some bloody scrapes on her skin.    
    Hmm, Pan thought, Perhaps they could be amusing.  Out loud, he retorted, “Wendy, I’m not lying to you.  Felix took her home.  Call them if you’re so worried,” Pan snatched Gretel’s cell phone out of her hand, “but do it at the table.  I’m hungry.”  Without another word, Peter walked off to his customary lunch table, Gretel’s cell phone still securely in his palm (he knew what phones were, as they were innovations during his lifetime in the Land Without Magic, though the fact they were now portable was new to him).  As he expected, Gretel angrily chased after him:   
    “Hey, give me back my phone!”   
    Also as he expected, Wendy chased after her, Grace following behind them both and imploring, “Gret, just get a new one, it’s not worth it-” Gretel simply refused to answer, pursuing Pan straight to his table.  She was so dogged in her task that it was only when she was directly in front of a group of Lost Boys that she stopped.  The Lost Boys, all sitting around Peter, stared at her with a mixture of surprise and suspicion.  
    Dodger queried, “What’s she doing here?” He wasn’t exactly a fan of either Grace or Gretel.  They hadn’t made fun of him to his face, but they were part of the popular crowd.  He had a feeling they, like so many others, made fun of him behind his back.  Gretel swallowed and blushed- he was right, and she did feel somewhat guilty, especially when he was passing judgment on her before so many others.  
    “We have guests joining us for lunch today,” Pan said smoothly, “Three ladies.  I trust you will all make room for them.”  Although Dodger still eyed Gretel with distaste, he obligingly moved aside for her.  Similarly, Curly and Fox moved for Grace and Wendy.  There were now three open spaces at the table.  There wasn’t any doubt where Wendy would sit- the seat to Peter’s left had belonged to her for years (the seat to the right belonged to his second, but as Felix wasn’t present, Slightly currently sat there).  Grace and Gretel shot nervous looks at each other, but merely sat where places had opened up:  Gretel on Slightly’s other side, and Grace next to Nibs.    
    Slightly stared at Gretel.  It had been quite some time since he’d looked at a girl- really looked at her.  His old school had only boys.  When Peter had taken him to Neverland, there had been no girls- not truly, anyway -until Wendy.  Wendy had always been Peter’s, the fairies were concerned only with themselves, and the Indians, similarly, did not associate with the Lost Boys.  None of this had bothered Slightly. He had the Lost Boys.  It was enough.    
    So it threw him a tad when there was suddenly a girl, and a very attractive one, sitting next to him.   
    “Um,” she squirmed in her seat, obviously unsure what to say, “My name’s Gretel.”  Slightly could see the confusion and questions in her eyes- which, he couldn’t help but note, were quite a lovely shade of brown:  Who is this boy?  How old is he?  What does it mean to be a Lost Boy?  Is he feral?  Will he kill me, like Pan killed so many?   
    He only answered her first silent question, “I’m Slightly.”    
    Gretel cocked her head, “That’s your name?”   
    “Yes,” Slightly confirmed.  The name he’d held in the Land Without Magic hadn’t been spoken for years, even by those who knew it.  The second he’d stepped on Neverland’s shores, his prior identity had ceased to exist.  Peter had renamed him immediately.  While Slightly had initially not been fond of his new name, over the centuries he’d grown to like it.  Those who had made fun of him in England- calling him “slightly soiled” when he lost his fortune after his parents’ deaths -were all dead, while he was immortal.  He’d overcome their nasty taunts, and he felt his name was a reminder of his tenacity.  Consequently, he liked it.      
    “Really?” Gretel inquired.  Slightly couldn’t be sure, but he was fairly certain she was asking questions to hide her fear.    
    “Yes.”   
    “That’s a strange name,” Gretel said, before clapping her hands over her mouth.  She blushed, very aware that she had made not only a rude comment, but a possible enemy.  Slightly might be a strange name, but it belonged to a decidedly strange boy who could also decidedly kill her.    
    “No stranger than yours,” Slightly replied.  Concluding that had been an appropriate response, he bit into a chicken tender.  Admittedly, he’d been confused about the change in cuisine since he’d last been in the Land Without Magic, but he was coming around to some of the more modern foods, particularly any variation of fried chicken.   
    “My name’s a real name,” Gretel asserted.  She flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder and crossed her legs, somewhat defensive now.      
    Slightly raised an eyebrow at her, “So is mine.”   
    “No, it’s not!” she insisted, “It’s an adverb.”  Her cheeks were still bright pink, which Slightly noted.  She was flushed, and if she truly was afraid of him, he wanted it to stop.  Peter, she should definitely be wary of, but him?  Slightly didn’t kill girls.  He didn’t swear at girls.  It simply wasn’t the way he had been raised by his parents.  So Slightly answered:   
    “‘What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O! be some other name: What’s in a name?  That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d, retain that dear perfection which owes without that title.’”   
    Gretel’s jaw dropped, and Slightly grinned, “Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II.  If Shakespeare says people can be perfect with any type of name, I don’t see why Slightly- an adverb, as you say -can’t be my name.” Seeing the stunned girl had no food in front of her, he pushed his basket of chicken tenders in her direction, “Now, since you have no lunch, you’re more than welcome to share my chicken.”  Disbelievingly, Gretel took a chicken tender and took a tiny bite of it, apparently too shocked to say anything else.    
    Across the table, Nibs groaned, “You still remember Shakespeare?  After all this time?  God, Slightly, you were perfectly insufferable quoting it then, don’t be perfectly insufferable and quote it now!”

* * *

 

  
   _The trio lounged in Peter’s room.  It was where they always seemed to find themselves in their free time.  Although Ian and Winston had more than adequate quarters at Eton as well, it was almost universally accepted that Peter’s room was where they met._  
 _“Ugh, Shakespeare,” Winston groaned, “Why do we have to study this?  The guy’s been dead for almost three hundred years!” He slammed his book closed, then kicked it across the floor for good measure.  It skidded, and there was a distinct crackling sound as the edge of one of the pages ripped._  
 _“Winston!” Ian chided, “That’s a first edition!”_  
 _“So?”_  
 _“Of Shakespeare!” Ian said incredulously, “Only one of the most famous playwrights in history!  A First Folio of Shakespeare’s work is priceless!  I can’t imagine why they gave such a relic to you, when you don’t appreciate such momentous artifacts of the past-” He reached for the book, then cradled it in his arms.  Anxiously, he searched for the ripped page, letting out a cry of utter dismay._  
 _“Oh, please,” Winston rolled his eyes, “Spare us the dramatics.  You don’t actually like it, Ian.  The only reason you care is because your family name is mentioned in it!”_  
 _Ian said, “That’s not true at all, Winston, and if we weren’t gentlemen, I would have to punch you for such an accusation.” He huffed, then carefully placed the expensive tome on Peter’s nightstand._  
 _“Ian, we all know it’s true,” Peter grinned, “From the second we started ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ all you’ve been going on about is how your family is famous enough that Shakespeare talked about them-”_  
 _“Never mind the fact the family of our dear Viscount Montague, in Shakespeare’s work, is a group of utter prats,” Winston cut in, his eyes alight with mischief.  He only was teasing his best friend, and Winston knew that Ian, despite his indignation, was aware Peter and Winston were joking.  Ian fought to hold his straight face, but a few moments later, joined the other two in laughter._  
 _“Still,” Peter interjected, “While I don’t want to go down in history quite like Shakespeare’s Montagues-”_  
 _“As a complete and utter prat, you mean?” Winston teased.  Playfully, he shoved Peter, who shoved him back._  
 _Nevertheless, Peter ignored Winston’s words and stated, “I think I might like to go down in history like Shakespeare himself.” He crossed his arms and bit his lip, obviously thinking of what that would entail._  
 _“What do you mean?” Ian asked._  
 _“Think about it,” Peter said, “Shakespeare’s been dead for almost three hundred years, and everyone knows his name.  Everyone recognizes the excellence of his written works.  No writer has ever quite been his match.”_  
 _Winston said dryly, “Peter, I don’t think I could ever see you as being a writer.  You’re great at a lot of things, but I’m not sure writing’s your calling.” While it was true Peter excelled in their literature classes- as he excelled in almost every class -he actually disliked writing stories.  He could do it, of course, but he preferred to listen to them instead._  
 _Accordingly, Peter explained, “I don’t mean writing.  I mean having such a great influence on history that one’s name is eternal, lasting and going down through the ages for time immemorial.”_  
 _There was a heavy silence as they pondered Peter’s words.  He’d always been the leader of their little trio, and he often said things that Ian and Winston found both brilliant and ridiculous.  They were constantly wondering where Peter came up with the ideas he said and believed.  At the same time, they admired him for it- and for his outstanding loyalty to them both.  He’d been there for them since the three had started at Eton as wide-eyed thirteen year olds, afraid to leave home, but well-aware of the heavy expectations placed on their shoulders as the sons of earls.  When some of the older boys tried to bully them, making them do chores and run for errands, Peter had stood up for them and demanded the older boys stop the practice.  If it had been any other student, the older boys would have laughed and made him work even harder.  But for some reason, they had obeyed Peter, and none had bothered Winston, Ian, or any of the other boys in their year since.  Further, when a sordid rumor had spread around society about Ian’s sister last summer, one so bad that it would have ruined her marriage prospects, it was Peter who had danced with her at an annual ball.  And as Peter Ponsoby was known as a highly-desired catch on the society circuit, his acknowledgment of Charlotte Montague in such a public way, smiling all the while, caused it to be instantly accepted that the rumor could not be true.  Charlotte had begun entertaining proposals a week later._  
 _Finally, Winston said, “All right, Ian, Peter’s gone mental.  It’s almost dinner.  Maybe he needs a good meal to get his brains back.”_  
 _“Shut it, Nibbles!” Peter retorted, “I’m not mental.  Besides, the reason you’re so eager to go to dinner is because it’s lamb night.”_  
 _“Don’t call me Nibbles!” Winston said, “It’s not like I’m Alan Howard, eating everything in sight-”_  
 _“We know,” Ian said, “but we also know lamb’s your favorite.  And let’s be honest, Nibbles is better than your last nickname-”_  
 _“Don’t say it,” Winston warned, but Ian finished, with some glee:_  
 _“Lambykins!”_  
 _“Oh God, stop,” Winston moaned, “Never again do I want that back.  I don’t understand why ‘Lord Lambton’ was such a difficult concept-”_  
 _“Because you had to like lamb,” Peter said, “You were practically begging for a nickname to happen.  At least I got ‘Nibbles’ to catch on instead.”_  
 _Winston muttered angrily to himself, while Peter and Ian laughed as the three headed down to dinner._

 

* * *

  
    “What do you mean, ‘remember Shakespeare?’  You knew Shakespeare in Neverland?” Grace inquired.  Nibs looked at her, surprised.  He hadn’t expected her to talk.  The willowy blonde had been dead silent, and pale as the dead, for that matter, since she’d sat down.  He knew her name, mostly because he’d heard Dodger angrily muttering to himself about the two girls sitting with them.  However, unlike her friend, she seemed to deal with her nerves by not speaking at all- until now.   
    “Not exactly,” Nibs demurred, “I’m Nibs.”   
    “Grace,” she said hesitantly, sticking out her hand.  Nibs, for some reason acting on old manners, gently raised it to his lips and kissed it.  Grace, taken aback, blushed up to her ears.     
    “Oh!” Slightly retorted, “I’m insufferable?  I’m not the one using old etiquette!”   
    “You were the one who kept reminding us to be polite to Wendy, as she was a lady,” Nibs pointed out.  The very first day Wendy had arrived in Neverland, it was Slightly who had urged the other Lost Boys to treat Wendy with due courtesy and respect.  It was rather ironic that Slightly was the one judging Nibs now.   
    Peter, while somewhat amused by their antics, had an entirely different purpose in mind when inviting Wendy, Gretel, and Grace to sit with them.  Gretel and Grace had been afterthoughts, entirely unnecessary to his plan, but Wendy was needed.  He was Peter Pan, after all, and all the new boys knew of Peter Pan was that bizarre book he’d seen in the library.  He wanted to correct the record, and he knew of no better storyteller than Wendy Darling.   
    So it was that Pan announced to the table, “I’m sure you all know of, or at least have heard of Wendy Darling.”  The older Lost Boys, those who Wendy had known before in Neverland, all murmured various greetings in her direction.  The newer Lost Boys, those who Peter was gathering around himself in Storybrooke, just stared at her.  They had known her as Gwen, and while they had learned a bit about Wendy Darling from the older Lost Boys, they hadn’t quite reconciled that the Gwen who flitted around school was actually the person who the older Lost Boys discussed in hushed tones.  She’d seemed almost mythical, a figure not quite real, and now she was sitting before them.    
    Wendy nodded to the Lost Boys she knew. Beneath the table, she twisted her hands together nervously.  Where was Peter going with this?  What was the purpose of bringing her here and identifying her to those who already knew her?    
    Peter continued, “You new boys have asked me all about Neverland, what it’s like, who lives on it, what we do for fun,” he winked at them, “and Wendy, among her many talents, is a magnificent storyteller.  I hope she’ll be so kind as to share her gift with us and tell you a story about Neverland.”   
    Peter turned to her, eyes full of false innocence.  Wendy gaped at him.    
    Is he serious? she thought, What does he expect me to say?  That Neverland’s wonderful?  It was, it used to be, but then it was corrupted.  It was dark and cruel and I don’t want to talk about what I saw, what happened, I don’t want to crush these boys dreams, I don’t want to walk down that road, face those memories-   
    She felt like she was going to be sick, but somehow she found the strength to say, “No.”  Well-aware she couldn’t reveal her true reasoning- if she angered Peter, or embarrassed him publicly, there was no telling what he would do -she quickly added:   
    “There’s so many stories to choose from, and I’m sorry to say I’m out of practice.  I don’t want to tell a story and not tell it well, especially as Peter has apparently been raising all of your expectations about me.”   
    “I’m sure any story you tell will be a good one,” a boy she didn’t recognize reassured her.  She turned to look at him, and swallowed uncomfortably.  He was a new Lost Boy, full of ignorance and innocence and totally unaware of what he’d gotten himself into.  A chorus of other voices echoed his sentiment.    
    “Thank you,” Wendy said softly, “but I don’t want to ruin my reputation,” she forced her lips into a smile, “I’ll tell one another time, but for now, I’m afraid I can’t.”   Avoiding the disappointed faces of the new Lost Boys, she hurriedly looked down and opened her lunchbox.  Although she didn’t want to eat, she had to keep up some pretense of normalcy.  Biting her lip, she selected a yogurt.  As she tore the cover off, the Lost Boys’ interest in her faded, and they gradually resumed conversation with each other.  Peter, meanwhile, leaned in close to her:      
    “So,” he said, whispering into her ear, “Since you don’t care to tell them a story, care to tell me about Ferdinand?”    
    “What about him? He’s a prince from the Enchanted Forest, in a land bordering Snow White’s,” Wendy said as she drew away from him, stirring her yogurt.  She tried to keep her voice as nonchalant as possible.    
    “He seems to like you,” Peter noted.  He rested his head on his hands, obviously waiting for her to elaborate.     
    Wendy shrugged noncommittally.  She took a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth.  Peach.  Not her favorite.  Much like this conversation with Pan.    
    “Felix said he wants to go to the dance with you,” Peter prodded, fishing for more information.  Apparently, he wasn’t going to give up until she said something.     
    “I’m not going,” Wendy responded automatically.  She was going, she told herself- of course she was, if nothing else, to spite Peter -but she had to keep Ferdinand alive before then.    
    “But you like dances,” Pan stated.  He sounded almost like a child protesting an adult’s explanation.    
    “Not this one,” Wendy asserted.  She swirled her spoon in her yogurt, debating whether it would be better to eat as fast as possible and leave, or eat as slowly as she could.  If she ate as fast as possible, she could leave the cafeteria- but there was a very high potential of Peter following her.  If she ate slowly, she might be able to limit her responses to him, and if she made her yogurt last until the end of lunch, she could perhaps alleviate some of the nausea in her stomach and clandestinely eat in class.    
    “And what has made you suddenly dislike this particular dance?  Last night you were excited about it, as I recall.”   
    Wendy paused, then grit her teeth as she realized the only excuse Peter would find acceptable:   
    “I got to thinking, and you were right.  I don’t want to pretend to be someone else.”  
    At this, Peter’s granted her a brilliant smile.  He’d been upset, before, by her refusal to tell a story.  However, he was pleased by Wendy’s response.  Perhaps, he considered, he’d pushed her too far by asking her to tell a story to the Lost Boys.  As recently as yesterday, she was clinging to the facade of her assumed identity.  He knew she’d cried about his words- he hated it when she cried -and had even somewhat berated himself for making her cry.  He might have been too cruel in how he phrased the sentiment, but Wendy, finally, was recognizing that he was right.  Still, she probably needed time to adjust, and to accept that she was, and would always be, Wendy Darling.  Therefore, he’d let her have her time.  She’d just admitted to him, after all, that she wanted to be Wend Darling again.  He wouldn’t force her to revert so quickly.   
    “I’m glad to hear that,” Peter said, “Wendy Darling is a much better person than Gwen Carissima.”   
    “She is,” Wendy agreed.  A better person, maybe, but also a cursed one, she thought bitterly.  Sighing, she looked up to spot Grace dashing away from the table.    
    “Grace!” she called after her friend, but Grace didn’t answer her.  Nibs, who she had been seated next to, seemed puzzled and shocked by her sudden exit.  He turned to Peter, silently querying whether he should follow her, but Pan shook his head.  Grace, while amusing, was unnecessary to him.  There was no need to expend Nibs’ time or energy in pursuing her.    
    Wendy stood up, immediately ready to follow her friend.  Then she reconsidered:  if she went after Grace, Peter would definitely follow them both.  It would also indicate to Peter just how much she valued Grace as a friend.  Hating herself, but knowing it was the right decision, she covered her concern by walking to a vending machine- within Peter’s eyesight -and purchasing a candy bar.  Then she returned to the table and sank back in her seat next to him, hating herself even more when a part of her reveled in his smile.   

 

* * *

  
  _The night they returned from Wonderland, Peter was standing in Wendy’s treehouse.  Over time, it had become an accepted- if unacknowledged -arrangement between them:  he held her while she slept to ward off her nightmares.  However, he seemed to dislike sneaking into and out of her bed, so he’d started coming before she went to sleep and talking to her until she fell asleep.  Normally, it was a strange- though if she was honest with herself, it was also oddly comforting -ritual.  But tonight, she wasn’t going to fall asleep easily._  
 _“Peter, you can’t be serious,” Wendy said.  She was sitting in her bed, the covers drawn up around her waist.  Her bow lay discarded on her bedside table, but she still sported her nightgown._  
 _“About what?” Pan inquired.  He tried to play it off innocently, but Wendy no longer fell for that act._  
 _“You know what I mean.  Killing that boy.  You can’t do it.” She’d been ruminating over the subject since they’d returned from Wonderland.  Even though their journey had been shocking in many ways- having her shadow taken away (thankfully united with her again now), the bloodthirsty Queen of Diamonds, the flying between dimensions themselves -this was what had occupied the forefront of her thoughts._  
 _“Why not?” Pan asked.  He was entirely unconcerned, and was currently surveying tonight’s weather through one of the windows of her treehouse.  It had been clear skies a few hours before- if dark -but now clouds were rapidly gathering on the horizon._  
 _“Because it’s cruel!” the girl retorted immediately.  How could he not grasp this concept?_  
 _“Cruel?  I’ve killed people before, Wendy.” The words hung in the air between them.  Peter wasn’t trying to argue with her; he wasn’t angry.  He was stating a simple fact.  He had killed- Wendy had seen it, multiple times._  
 _“Not like this,” Wendy insisted, “Never an innocent boy, without a chance to defend himself!” This was nothing short of murder._  
 _Pan shrugged, “Sometimes, there are sacrifices that must be made for the greater good.  This boy’s death is one of them.”  With that, he stood up and stretched, shutting the curtain to her window and blocking out the view._  
 _“The greater good!?” Wendy repeated, utterly incredulous, “The greater good!?  What greater good is this?”_  
 _“All of the inhabitants of Neverland need the island,” Peter insisted, “and they depend on me.  The Lost Boys all hail from worlds where their lives would have been miserable, if I hadn’t saved them.  It’s my responsibility.”_  
 _“Saved them?  And brought them into what?  This?  A dying, cursed, island?”_  
 _“Neverland isn’t cursed-”_  
 _“It wasn’t before,” Wendy conceded, “but like this?  Neverland’s dying, Peter.  You can’t deny it-”_  
 _Peter flinched at her statement, but instead of acknowledging it, he noted, “God, Darling, do you have to imagine this treehouse so hot?”_  
 _Wendy began to defend herself- the island was always cool during the day, and at night it was positively freezing, with mists all over and storms, and she wore nothing but a nightgown- and she had to do something- but before the words could come out of her mouth, Peter stripped off his shirt, muscles rippling smoothly in the candlelight.  She’d seen him shirtless before- in happier days, they’d all gone swimming the lagoon together -but his torso had always been partially hidden by the water, and there had been others around.  It had been very innocent then._  
 _“I- I-” the girl sputtered.  She couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from him.  All she could think of was the great chess piece they had seen earlier that day- the bishop scowling down at her for impropriety.  Oh God, what would her mother think of this?  Wendy was certain it was inappropriate, it was so very inappropriate, and she should demand he replace his shirt this second-_  
 _“Cat got your tongue, Darling?” Pan taunted her as he placed his shirt on her vanity.  He didn’t realize yet why she was so quiet- he hadn’t seen her reaction, merely heard her stammer.   However, when he finally turned around and saw the girl flushed bright red, he smirked._  
 _“Peter,” Wendy managed to say, “Put your shirt back on this instant!”_  
 _Pan, greatly amused by her embarrassment, retorted, “It’s too hot, Wendy.  I can’t fall asleep if it’s this hot, and you can’t fall asleep without me.”  He shrugged, still smirking, then got into bed, his nose inches from hers._  
 _“Fine,” the girl shook her head, struggling to clear her thoughts of the very handsome, very shirtless boy in front of her, “Then I’ll imagine it colder.”  Although she tried, she couldn’t seem to do so.  While she had learned to imagine some small things for herself- she was at about the same level as a new Lost Boy -she could only do it with great concentration. Now, she couldn’t focus, and she bit back a cry of frustration._  
 _Peter chuckled at her ire, but said, “Just turn over, Darling, and don’t look at me if you’re that embarrassed.  Though I don’t know why you are; we’re not in London anymore.  Those rules don’t apply.”_  
 _Blushing furiously, Wendy did as he suggested and rolled onto her left side.  Quickly, she climbed under the covers, making sure there was a definite barrier between herself and Peter.  She felt him lay down beside her, though he stayed above the covers.  Still, the fabric was very thin, and his chest muscles seemed to be very firmly pressed against her back.  Wendy forced herself not to think about that, and clenched the covers tighter in her fists as he wrapped his arms around her.  This wasn’t unusual- he put his arms around her every night, and she’d grown more or less used to it -but he’d never done it shirtless.   She twisted her position a bit, trying once more to put the image from her mind.  Peter, meanwhile, let out a soft breath.  Air tickled against her neck, and the lamps blew themselves out.   It took Wendy longer than usual, but she did eventually manage to fall asleep._  
 _The next morning, Peter swung himself out of bed.  He strode to the vanity, then quickly replaced his shirt.  Wendy, meanwhile, did her best to focus on the lace pattern of her covers.  As he checked his appearance in her mirror, he said nonchalantly:_  
 _“You know, you could have just imagined more blankets for yourself.  It would have been considerably easier.”_  
 _Wendy was dumbstruck.  Cockily, he faced her, grinning and utterly pleased with himself._  
 _“And you couldn’t think to mention this last night?” the girl demanded._  
 _“I thought about it,” Pan shrugged, “I thought about imagining them for you myself.  But it was much more fun to see you squirm.”_  
 _Completely irate, Wendy yelled, “You- you- you callous, stupid, cad!”_  
 _“Cad?” Peter repeated, one eyebrow lifted, “I think that’s rather unfair, Darling.” He walked towards the door of the treehouse, still smirking at her._  
 _The girl narrowed her eyes, and tried to come up with a suitable condemnation.  None came to mind._  
 _As Pan opened the door, he noted, “I think you liked it.”  He winked, and at that, Wendy lost her temper completely.  She shrieked something indiscernible as she hurled a pillow at him.  Peter simply laughed and jumped out of the doorway, flying towards the Lost Boys’ camp._  
  


* * *

  
    Wendy had been puzzled by the announcement summoning her to the principal’s office after lunch.  Despite the bad things that happened around her, she was an exemplary student.  There was no reason for her to be called there, and she was quite anxious about the cause.  She was even more anxious about the boy following her- for of course as she left the classroom, Peter immediately rose to his feet and followed.  He didn’t seem very concerned about the teacher giving him a detention after school.   
    “So what’d you do, Darling?” Peter asked dryly, “Even I can’t imagine what transgression got you summoned here.”   
    “I have no idea,” Wendy admitted, “and honestly, I’m rather scared to find out.”   
    In a rare moment of what she thought was Peter’s legitimate attempt at being comforting, he reached out and squeezed her hand, “I’m sure everything will be fine, Darling.  As you said, your record’s spotless.”  Unnerved, Wendy took her hand away from him.  For a second, she thought she saw a look of hurt flash across his face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual smirk.   
    When they arrived at the office, Mary Margaret opened the door:   
    “Come in, Wendy.”  Swallowing, the nervous girl obeyed and stepped over the threshold.    
    Upon spotting Peter behind her, Mary Margaret commanded, “I’m afraid student conferences with principals are private, Mr. Pan.  There are no exceptions to this rule.  Besides, aren’t you supposed to be in English Literature right now?”   
    Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her.  Nevertheless, he obeyed the Charming’s direct rule to him (he wasn’t going to risk voiding the contract over this) and replied, “Indeed I am.”  Then he turned on his heel and walked around the corner.  He kept up his steps for a while, until he heard the office door close, indicating Mary Margaret believed him to have returned to class.   
    Idiot, Pan thought, Very well.  I won’t go inside the principal’s office, but that’s all you told me I couldn’t do.  I don’t plan on leaving Wendy, and besides, I don’t have to go to class when you simply asked me if that was where I was supposed to be.  You didn’t tell me I had to go there.  Besides, I’ve read more than enough Shakespeare.  He snorted at the memory.   
    Suddenly, Peter was distracted by the slam of a nearby locker.  Interesting.  Who else was wandering about during class time when they weren’t supposed to?  When he saw who it was- late, apparently -he felt a rush of pleasure go through him.  This was going to be fun.  Very, very fun. 

* * *

 

As Mary Margaret shut the door, she leaned her head against it.  She stayed there for a long time, apparently listening for Peter.  Wendy, meanwhile, fidgeted nervously.  She simply wanted to get this meeting over with.  What had she done wrong?  She didn’t have time to worry about school right now, and yet she’d apparently done something so grievous she’d ended up in the principal’s office.  Wendy knew, inherently, that this was a stupid thing to be worrying about right now, but she couldn’t help it.   
    Finally, Mary Margaret sighed, “I think he’s gone.  You can come out, Regina.”   
    “It’s about time,” Regina grumbled.  Wendy gasped as the former Evil Queen pushed open the door of a storage closet.  Carefully, she brushed dust off her scarlet pantsuit.     
    “Had I known I was going to be hiding in a closet,” Regina said, “I would have dressed differently.”   
    “You know hiding with magic would only have provoked him,” Mary Margaret admonished her.   
    “Of course I know!” Regina snapped, “I’m the one who told you that.  Now,” she fixed her black eyes on Wendy, “what’s this about, Darling?”  Her very presence was intimidating, and it made the girl even more nervous.    
    “I was hoping you could tell me,” Wendy said carefully, “I’ve never been called to the principal’s office before.”  Her heart was leaping in her chest, terrified about what she’d done to anger both Mary Margaret and Regina, but to her surprise, Regina merely laughed:   
    “Well, your little friend did say you wanted to meet in private as soon as possible.  This was the only solution I could come up with.”   
    “Grace called you?” Wendy sputtered, “but I only just asked her too...and I told her to keep it private!” she cast her eyes down, at once apologetic, “I’m sorry, Miss Blanchard.  I know that sounded horrible-” She was ashamed at her breach of manners, but at the same time she was both annoyed and scared for Grace.  The more people who knew about this, the more likely Pan would know.  Why hadn’t she listened to Wendy?    
    “It’s all right, Wendy,” the woman smiled, “You can trust me.”  She reached out and patted her on the shoulder.  Mary Margaret meant the gesture to be comforting, and while Wendy was sure the sentiment behind it was real, she doubted Mary Margaret could do much to protect Henry.  She also knew that if the woman thought it necessary, she would immediately tell Emma.    
    I wish I could tell you, Wendy thought, but Henry made me promise.   
    Suddenly, Regina interjected, “Don’t worry.  I’ll hit her with a memory spell later.”  Mary Margaret whirled to face Regina:   
    “What?  I don’t think so!”   
    “I do,” Regina replied, “Miss Darling’s friend said this meeting had to be strictly private.  Private means between me and her.  The only reason you’re here is because I couldn’t figure out a way to meet covertly.  And unfortunately, we can’t send you out in the middle of a supposed meeting when you’re my cover.”   
    “I promise, Wendy,” Mary Margaret repeated, “You can trust me.”  She smiled at Wendy, and behind her, Regina mouthed, “I’ll get her.”   
    Wendy sighed, but seeing no other option, summarized what Henry had first suggested to her:  
    “Henry believes that if you take his heart, and your heart, and lock them in your vault, there’s no way for Pan to get it.  You could put a spell on it, and keep everyone but you out.  Then no one could control either of you, and Henry couldn’t give his heart to Pan even if he wanted to.”   
    There was a long moment of silence as Regina and Mary Margaret considered the plan.  Mary Margaret appeared taken aback, and a bit disturbed both by the plan and the fact her grandson had suggested it.  Regina was a swirl of emotions, but desperation and fear were obviously the primary ones.  Regina knew that Henry’s idea had some merit.  It was ingenious, actually, but it was also incredibly dangerous.  Not to mention the fact it was being told to her by Wendy Darling, of all people.  The girl had been found at the scene of two murders and witnessed a third.  She’d told Regina and the rest of the Charmings in Neverland about how to kill Pan- or how she thought Pan would be killed -yet mysteriously, the infernal boy was still alive.  Was all of this really a coincidence?    
    “What makes you so sure this’ll work, Darling?  And why didn’t my son tell me?” Regina demanded.  Wendy stood, arms crossed, in front of the Evil Queen.    
    “Henry was going to, but I thought the sooner you knew, the better.  And I’m not sure it will work,” Wendy admitted, “but I think it’s a much better plan than waiting around.  This is how Peter operates- you are playing a game, and you follow the rules, but you must work around the rules to win,” she paused, “He’s brilliant, and if you don’t try to be at least somewhat creative, I assure you, you’ll lose.”       
    Regina stared at her for several minutes, then asked, “And were you creative, Miss Darling?”   
    At this, Wendy stood taller and glared at the queen, “I spent over a hundred years with him.  How do you think I survived?”  
    Neither Regina or Mary Margaret could give her an answer.        

* * *

  
    “Hello, Ferdinand,” Peter Pan greeted the boy, leaning against the metal lockers beside the prince’s.  He carried no books, but he rarely did.  He was usually bored in classes, and only went to them to obey the rules of Storybrooke in the daytime.    
    “Who are you?” Ferdinand asked.  He tried to feign ignorance, but no one was a better actor than Peter.  In fact, Peter would hardly call Ferdinand’s shoddy attempt at acting a performance. It was embarrassing.      
    Consequently, Pan rolled his eyes, “Don’t play that game.  You know who I am.  This whole town knows who I am.”  It was rather enjoyable, he thought, to be infamous.    
    “I’m not afraid of you,” Ferdinand said, searching through his books.  He wouldn’t meet Peter’s eyes- however, Peter didn’t think Ferdinand was lying.  He was genuinely underestimating Peter’s power.    
    “You should be,” Pan muttered.  Loudly, he said, “You will leave Wendy Darling alone.”    
    “What?” Ferdinand replied, incredulous.  At this directive, he met Peter’s gaze, seemingly perplexed by such a command- and a command being given to him.      
    “You will tell Wendy you aren’t accompanying her to the dance,” Pan stated calmly, “and you will never talk to her again.”  His eyes were alight with a dangerous fire, and while Ferdinand was a bit unsettled by it, he decided he wasn’t going to be pushed around by a boy who walked around dressed in leaves.  He was a prince after all.  Peter Pan was just a deluded child.     
    “I think Gwen can make her own decisions about who she wants to spend time with.  I’ll see you later, Pan,” Ferdinand said dismissively, slamming his locker door in Peter’s face.    
    Pan narrowed his eyes, “What if I were to sweeten the deal?”  He strode in front of Ferdinand, blocking the prince’s path to class.   
    “What deal?” Ferdinand said, “There is no deal.”  
    “Yes, there is,” Pan leaned forward, and hissed, “If you leave Wendy alone, I won’t hurt you.  If you don’t...” he trailed off, the implication clear.   
    “You can’t do anything, Pan,” Ferdinand insisted.  That’s what the sheriff had said, after all.  The news had said the townspeople didn’t need to fear Peter Pan.    
    “Can’t I?” Pan cocked his head, “Last chance.  Do we have a deal?” He waited for the answer, even now playing fair.    
    The prince said, his voice low and steady, “No.”   
    Peter sighed, as if annoyed he had to do this, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  Then he grabbed Ferdinand’s books, threw them out of his arms, and shoved him into the lockers.  Ferdinand, for his part, looked stunned that Peter had attempted anything.   
    “Are you serious?”   
    “Very,” Pan assured him.   
    “Fine.  I’ll show you what a grown-up can do,” Ferdinand taunted him, then pulled back his fist.  He threw a punch, but Peter avoided it easily.    
    “Pan!”   
    Although Peter heard the concerned voices of Slightly and Nibs- they’d apparently left class to follow him -he wasn’t distracted.  He kept his eyes on Ferdinand, watching the prince’s every pathetic move.  Besides, the Lost Boys weren’t afraid for him- they simply wanted him to know they were there, if he wished to command them.  He felt a rush of gratitude and pride in Slightly and Nibs- his oldest friends.  They would stand by him throughout all of time, apparently, no matter the school.   
    Pan goaded him, “Is that all you’ve got, Ferdinand?  I’m disappointed.”  He smirked, and felt a rush of pleasure at the boy’s enraged face.  Ferdinand was practically seeing red.    
    “Hardly,” the prince growled, and dove for Pan again.  This time, he aimed for the stomach, but Peter spun to the left, causing Ferdinand to overshoot.  As the boy stumbled, Pan reached his own fist back, then punched Ferdinand in the head as hard as he could.  There was an audible cracking sound, but Ferdinand didn’t give up.  He turned back to face Pan, a little wobbly on his feet:   
    “Never attack an enemy from behind.  Don’t you know the rules of engagement?” he cocked his head, smirking on his own, “I suppose not.  They wouldn’t teach a common child the same things they’d teach a prince.”   
    Peter narrowed his eyes and retorted, “Oh, I know the rules.  I’m hardly as common as you’d think,” he dove forwards, retrieving his dagger, the motion so fast Ferdinand never even saw it, “You may be a prince, but I’m a king.” Ferdinand came to meet him, reaching his hands out for Pan’s shoulders.  Peter smiled grimly as he drove the dagger into Ferdinand’s stomach.  He twisted it, enjoying the boy’s gasps of pain that came in time with every movement of the dagger.  Ferdinand stumbled backwards, placing one hand over his stomach.  His hand came away stained with blood, and he looked up at Peter in pure shock.  Then, finally, the cowardice that Peter knew lurked inside the prince showed itself, and Ferdinand spun around as fast as he could, attempting to run somewhere- anywhere -away from him.   
    Ferdinand would indeed have made a terrible Lost Boy, for all Lost Boys knew never to turn their back on their enemy.    
    Peter seized the opportunity and kicked the prince hard in the back.  Ferdinand fell to the floor, a few tears falling down his face.  He seemed caught between trying to stop the tears and passing out from pain- or from processing that this being he’d thought was an irrelevant child had practically killed him.   
    Pan knelt on one knee next to him, and murmured, “ And don’t you know?  Kings make the rules.”   Slowly, he drew his dagger on the back of Ferdinand’s neck, leaving a painful, raised cut.   
    Just then, a flustered Mary Margaret arrived on the scene, racing down the hall from the office Peter had learned was hers only fifteen minutes before:   
    “Mr. Pan!” she gasped as she took in the scene, “What are you doing?”  
    “Ah, Madam Principal,” Peter greeted her by what he’d just read was her new title, according to her office door, recently bestowed by the mayor (a consolation prize, he suspected, for having to deal with him on a daily basis).  Rising to his feet, he inquired with an angelic smile, “Am I to be sent to your office now for a private meeting?”    
    “What did you do to him?” Mary Margaret asked, utterly horrified by the sight of the badly beaten, bruised, and bleeding Ferdinand on the floor.  
    Pan shrugged, “He tried to steal from me, and then he provoked me.  What could I do except defend myself?”    
    “It’s true, Miss Blanchard,” Slightly instantly came forward to support Peter’s story, “He tried to take Peter’s dagger, and Peter tried to get it back.  Unfortunately, when they were struggling over it, Ferdinand got too close.”   
    “He said awful things to Peter,” Nibs added, “He called him a stupid child who shouldn’t be playing with knives.”   
    “Well, Ferdinand is right in that knives of any sort are not allowed on school property, precisely so we can prevent situations like this,” Mary Margaret said.  Anxiously, she bent down next to Ferdinand and removed her scarf, quickly staunching his wounds as best she could.   Then, one-handed, she managed to maneuver her cell phone to her ear and dial 911.  She was summoning both an ambulance and her daughter.   She wasn’t sure either would be able to counteract the damage done by Pan, but she hoped to God they would.   
    A few minutes later, the whir of sirens announced the simultaneous arrival of the ambulance and the sheriff.  Medical staff, headed by a shocked Dr. Whale, jumped out.  They immediately began dressing Ferdinand’s wounds.  Dr. Whale shot accusing looks in Peter’s direction every once in a while, but Peter felt no guilt for what he’d done.  It was only what Ferdinand deserved for interfering with Wendy.  And he had warned him.   
    Emma, meanwhile, glared at Pan with unabashed hatred.    
    “I can’t believe you went and did this.  I mean, I knew you were capable of terrible things, but this,” she whistled, “And you two!” she pointed to Nibs and Slightly, “Don’t you even pretend that this was Ferdinand’s fault.  We all know it wasn’t, and we all know Pan’s responsible,” she crossed her arms and looked Peter straight in the eyes, “The only good thing about this is that if you’ve killed that boy, I’ve won the game, and Henry is free.”   
    “I may not be the most well-behaved boy in Storybrooke,” Pan assured Emma, “but I always keep my promises.  None of the wounds are fatal.  Though you might want to take him to the hospital, Lost Girl; no use having blood on the floor.”  
    Emma resisted the urge to choke him.   Nevertheless, she nodded to the medical staff.  They weren’t paying attention to her anyway, and had already begun the meticulous process of loading Ferdinand into the ambulance without injuring him further.    
    “As for you,” she said to Pan, “I’m taking you to the station.”   
    “And what are you planning on doing to me, exactly?”   
    “Locking you up,” Emma snorted, “Contract only says we can’t lock up the Lost Boys- it says nothing about you.”   
    “Oh, by all means then,” Peter smirked, “Lock me up, Lost Girl.”  Instantly, Emma knew she was missing something- and that if she did imprison Pan, the contract would be void.  She didn’t know why, and she ran a hand through her blonde hair.    
    “Stay here,” she commanded.  Mary Margaret nodded to her, indicating she’d keep an eye on the three boys.   
    Emma, meanwhile, walked around the corner and sighed.  Then she took out her cell phone and dialed Hook.   
    “I need advice,” she blurted before Hook had a chance to greet her.   
    “Swan,” the pirate’s voice was filled with concern, “Where are you?  You sound like hell.”   
    “The high school,” Emma replied, “Peter Pan stabbed Ferdinand Corté, and injured him so much Ferdinand’s currently on the way to the hospital.”   
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Hook said, “but I’m sure Ferdinand will be fine.”   
    “What makes you so certain?” Emma blanched at his response.  He was far too blasé about this.   
    “Because I think I know what you’re talking about- what Pan did.  I’ve seen him do it.  To Lost Boys, to some of my own pirates,” Hook’s tone grew bitter, “all he does is inflict severe injuries.  However, he’s bloody precise- the wounds all miss critical veins and organs.  It’s almost an art.  
    “Point being, Pan’s done it so many times that while I pity the lad, I’d stake my life on the wounds not killing Ferdinand, provided he doesn’t lose too much blood.”   
    Emma frowned, “I hope you’re right. But that’s not why I called.”   
    “What is it?” Hook asked, “and are you sure you don’t want me to come?”  
    “Yeah,” she sighed, “I’ll see you later, and I’ll definitely need a drink. But I told Pan I planned on locking him up.  Even if he didn’t kill Ferdinand, I can’t risk him doing this to anyone.  I can’t,” Emma vowed, “but when I told him I’d lock him up, he told me to do it.”   
    There was a long pause on the line, and Emma could practically see Hook thinking it through.   At last, he asked:   
    “Emma, what exactly did you say in the contract?  Anything about locking people up?”   
    “Pan said something about it,” she started, but Hook cut her off:   
    “Emma, tell me exactly what he said.  It’s important.”   
    A bit worried by her boyfriend’s shortness with her, Emma said, “We each had stipulations, and one of his was, ‘No imprisoning the Lost Boys.’”  
    “Emma, whatever you do, do not lock him up.  You can bring him to the station and question him, but don’t keep him confined anywhere.”   
    “Why?  He’s not one of the Lost Boys.”   
    “Emma,” Hook laughed bitterly, “Yes, he is.  He protected himself in saying that.  He’s the leader of the Lost Boys. He may not call himself a Lost Boy directly, he may not even consider himself one, but he’s their leader; he counts as one- just as Robin Hood counts as a Merry Man.  If you put him in jail- hell, if you bloody put him anywhere he doesn’t want to go and try to keep him there -he wins.”   
    “Please tell me you’re joking,” Emma nearly begged.  How could she have missed such a caveat?   She, who prided herself on her superpower to see through lies, had made a terrible oversight.  It made her stomach turn.   
    “Swan, I don’t joke about Peter Pan.”   
    “All right,” Emma sighed, trying to collect herself, “What do you suggest?”   
    “You can’t keep him contained,” Hook said, “Just keep an eye on people he doesn’t seem to like.  People he ignores- don’t worry about them.   People he likes he won’t hurt.  But there are a few people he’ll show active dislike for, and it’s them he’ll work out clever ways to attack.”  
    “I have to let him go?” the Savior queried, in utter disbelief.    
    “‘Fraid so, Swan,” Hook answered sadly- though completely unsurprised.    
    Emma bit her lip, “Thanks.  On second thought, meet me at the diner in an hour.  I need that drink sooner than I thought.  See you soon.”   
    “See you soon, love.”   
    Emma snapped her phone shut, then she turned around the corner to face her mother, a serial killer, and his two loyal servants.    
    “Okay, Emma,” said Mary Margaret, “What do you need me to do?  Where’s he going?”   
    Emma narrowed her eyes, “Wherever he wants.”   
    Pan laughed, “You finally figured it out, Lost Girl,” he smirked, “Took you long enough.”

* * *

 

  
    Felix had somehow persuaded a very pissed-off Tinkerbell to get in his car.  He’d had to carry her out of the school, but it had enraged the fairy so much she’d begun pounding his back.  It didn’t bother him much- he’d experienced worse -but, as she had already told him she had a headache, he figured shaking her around (or rather, letting her shake herself around through all her punching), wasn’t going to help.  He’d eventually set her on her feet by the car, and the irate  fairy managed to keep silent for most of the drive by watching the rain make patterns on the windows.  However, when they arrived at the house, and he lugged her out of the passenger seat, she pushed him away:   
    “Let me go!”   
    “You can’t walk straight, Tink,” Felix said, “Otherwise I would.”  The school parking lot, at least, had been flat.  The path up to the house Tink shared with Wendy wound up a hill, and it was dotted with rocks and plants.  There were plenty of things for her to fall on and hurt herself.    
    “You’re exaggerating-” she insisted, pushing him away from her again.   
    “I’m not,” Felix observed the direction she was walking in- it was worse, now that she was angry; she’d been managing to walk in a fairly straight line at school before Peter had instructed Felix to take her home -but he gave her space anyway.  Still, he watched her carefully, alert for her to trip at any second.  The fairy, in a huff, tried to storm up the front steps, but failed miserably.    
    “Ugh,” she groaned, admitting defeat, “Whatever.  Here.  Keys.”  She tossed her keys to him, and he sighed, then picked her up and carried her up the steps.  Felix shoved her keys into the lock, jiggling them around, attempting to open the door without irritating Tink further.  Her head lolled against his shoulder, and he could hear her swearing under her breath.  Finally, the lock turned, and Felix strode into the house.  The screen door slammed shut behind him, and Tink muttered something terribly rude into his ear.  Felix ignored the words, and simply deposited her in the living room.  Tink promptly kicked off her sneakers and threw them into the corner.  Felix raised an eyebrow at her actions, but Tink was utterly unashamed.    
    “What?” she demanded, settling into a chair and tucking her knees beneath her.  The Lost Boy merely rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen.  The fairy considered following him- what was he doing?  How did he know where things were?  He’d forcibly taken her from school, and if he was her only company for the rest of the day, she kind of wanted to irritate him.    
    However, the kitchen seemed too far, and she mused that he’d probably come back quickly.  Affirming her guess, Felix returned a few minutes later, bearing a large glass of water and toast.    
    “What’s this?” Tink asked.  She wrinkled her nose at the plate.  The bread was smoking slightly, tendrils of black smoke swirling in the air.    
    “Your lunch,” Felix replied.  He said this without a trace of irony, and proffered the plate to her.     
    “You made me toast for lunch?” the fairy said, completely incredulous.  This day was getting stranger and stranger, and had she not had such a massive headache, she would have been sure she was dreaming. Though admittedly, in her dreams, Felix was usually doing other things instead of making her toast.    
    “You’re hungover.  Normally I’d do better for lunch, but you’re dehydrated, and you need something in your stomach to absorb the alcohol,” at Tink’s shocked look, Felix granted her a small- though sad -smile, “What?  Surprised I know about such an adult thing?”   
    “Well...” Tink trailed off, “Yeah.  How do you know?” She changed her position on the chair, moving her feet to the floor so she could lean closer to Felix.  The Lost Boy still stood in front of her, holding the plate like an offering.    
    “My stepfather,” Felix said softly, “He never took anything, but my mother always tried to help him anyway.”   
    Abruptly, Tink’s ire vanished, quickly replaced by embarrassment.  How bad did this look to Felix?  He’d killed his stepfather, who by Felix’s own admission was a drunk.  True, Felix had killed his stepfather for beating his mother, but his stepfather had always beat her while drunk.     
    “God, Felix,” she paused, “I’m sorry.  I forgot,” suddenly the words came out, “I promise I’m not like that.  Like him.”   
    Now it was Felix who looked surprised, “I know you’re not.  You’ve only gotten drunk once and had too much to drink.  And aside from commenting on clothes, you’re not a mean drunk.”   
    “...was that your attempt at a joke?” the fairy asked, still in shock at the entire situation.   
    “Did it work?” the Lost Boy grinned playfully, but then did grew solemn, “In all seriousness, Tink, you’re better than this.”   
    “You just said I wasn’t a mean drunk-” Tink said defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.       
    “I know, but you didn’t get drunk to get drunk.  You weren’t having fun.  You did it in reaction to something-”  
    “You don’t know that,” she riposted.  He didn’t know her anymore.  How could he?  They hadn’t spoken, not truly, in ages.  Aside from that, he’d never seen her drunk.     
    Felix shrugged, “You can say whatever you want, but the fact is, I know you’re stronger than this.  I’ve seen it.”   
    “How is crying in the woods being strong?” the fairy couldn’t help but laugh.  In fact, she had long considered that the weakest moment in her life.      
    “You picked yourself up and kept going,” Felix explained, “You didn’t accept defeat.  Never have.”  He stared at her, a strange emotion swirling in his gray eyes.   
    Except when I let Pan win, when I let him tell me I couldn’t see you anymore. The words caught in Tink’s throat, and she forced them down.  Instead, she repeated, “You don’t know that.”   
    “Say what you want, but I’m right,” Felix asserted, “and just eat the toast, will you?”   
    “...you burnt it,” Tink pointed out.  She wasn’t picky with her food, but she was hesitant to eat anything that still had smoke spiraling off it.    
    “I did not,” Felix insisted.  He was almost offended.     
    “Yes, you did.  See the black edges?  You’ve been here for three months, Felix, and you haven’t figured out how to use a toaster?”  Tink clung to this fact, desperate to somehow redeem herself for how she’d acted towards him.  Felix may have claimed otherwise, but he had to be comparing her to his stepfather.  She wouldn’t take that.  Admittedly, his stepfather had never had access to a toaster, but that was a good thing- they couldn’t be compared over that.   
    Right, Tink thought, That is the dumbest logic you’ve ever come up with.  But if it works...  
    “Come on,” Tink said aloud, “I’ll show you.”  She got to her feet, then held out her hand to him.  He gazed at her hand, and then up at her.  Now, he was doing that annoying thing where she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.  It was just that slow, analytical gaze, and she hated it.  He used to show her more.  She didn’t like how separate they were-   
    Not the time to think about that, Tink reminded herself firmly.  Instead, she reached forward and grabbed his hand, then led a bewildered Felix into the kitchen after her.

* * *

  
    The Storybrooke Hospital was a flurry of activity.  Rarely had they dealt with a patient with such grave injuries as Ferdinand’s.  They usually only had dwarves as patients, when they occasionally suffered mining accidents.  They’d tended to David during his coma, and every so often they reset bones and issued prescriptions for strep throat.  Recently, they’d delivered a few babies.  However, the amount of bloodshed they’d encountered since Pan’s arrival was unparalleled, and it was beginning to overwhelm the staff.  Currently, Dr. Whale was having a heated argument with a colleague over where they could possibly obtain enough blood for the transfusion Ferdinand- apparently type AB+, the rarest and most difficult to find blood type -needed.    
    While the medical staff frantically debated where they could obtain the blood, Regina, Emma, Mary Margaret, and David stood in the waiting room.  They’d caught snippets of the conversation, and were well-aware of the gravity of the situation.   
    “Maybe we should let him bleed out,” Regina suggested.  She was completely serious.   
    The Charmings looked at her, aghast.  Identical looks of horror adorned their faces.   
    “What?” Regina said, “That means we win, automatically.” She shrugged.  While she was on her way to being a hero, that didn’t mean she was a hero yet.  She’d spent years as the Evil Queen, and her aim, at this point, was to protect Henry.  If someone had to be sacrificed to do that- especially someone Henry didn’t know -she was more than willing to permit it.    
    “We are not letting him die,” Snow insisted, “I can’t believe you even said that.”  Her tone was scathing, but David’s was even more judgmental:   
    “I can.” He shook his head at her, the motion almost akin to a parent reacting to a misbehaving child.  
    Regina rolled her eyes. She didn’t have time for their condemnations today.  Didn’t they see how this was an obvious solution?  Pan had inflicted these injuries on Ferdinand.  Pan had sworn he wouldn’t kill anyone.  If Ferdinand died of his injuries, then Pan had killed him.  The magical contract would be concluded, and they would have won.  Henry would be safe from the devil-boy’s clutches forever.   
    “Doesn’t matter,” Emma said darkly, “I talked to Hook.  Apparently, Pan’s done this before, and he’s always managed it so the victim doesn’t die, as long as they have enough blood.”    
    “That’s impossible!” Regina replied, “Trust me, no one gets injuries like that and stays alive.  I should know,” as the others glared at her again, she retorted, “Look, I can’t change the past.  I did what I did, and you may as well use my expertise if we want to save Henry.”  She shrugged, completely guiltless.   
    “I don’t think your ‘expertise’ will be necessary,” David pointed out, “If they really can’t find someone with Ferdinand’s blood type, he’ll die of blood loss anyway.”  His tone was sad and resigned.    
    “There must be something we can do,” Mary Margaret said, “Maybe if we talked to the Blue Fairy-”  
    “Because that worked out so well for you last time,” Regina snorted.   
    “I was a child,” Mary Margaret hissed, “And that was your mother, not the Blue Fairy!”   
    “Okay,” Emma interjected, stepping in between her mother and Regina, “This isn’t helping.  Ferdinand needs a blood transfusion with a rare blood type.  We need to find out who has it, and not use magic,” at the other’s confused stares, she explained, “All magic comes with a price, and I’m not willing to waste time figuring out what magic would work or what its price is while that kid’s life hangs in the balance.  
    “Now come on,” she pulled out her cell phone, “We are calling everyone in this damn town until we find someone with AB+.”    Emma and her parents immediately began dialing, while Regina sighed and retrieved her own cell phone.  She dialed only once, snapping an order at Sidney Glass to give an emergency news report demanding anyone with AB+ blood come to the hospital immediately.   
    It wasn’t long before someone showed up.    
    “Emma.”   
    “Neal!” Emma froze.  She hadn’t been expecting her ex, of all people, to come to the hospital and save Ferdinand.  Then again, she’d been avoiding him ever since they’d returned to Neverland.  Things had been awkward between them- between his original abandonment of her, his engagement to Tamara, her statement that she had hoped he was dead, and then the fragile new romance between her and Hook, it was difficult to be in his presence, especially as a part of her- a huge part of her, if she was honest -was still in love with him.  Yet, there was also a part of her that had begun to fall in love with Hook, and she didn’t know what to do about it.   
    “I heard you needed someone with AB+ blood,” Neal swallowed, then added, a bit unnecessarily, “I have it.”   
    Of course he did.  Pan had undoubtedly injured Ferdinand with this knowledge, as well as Neal’s desire to be a hero, in mind.   
    “That’s good,” Emma said awkwardly, inwardly cringing, “I mean, that’s great, because that kid really needs a transfusion-” she pointed in the general direction of the operating room, where it was still possible to hear the hospital staff arguing with one another.   
    “Got it,” Neal said.  He immediately jogged down the hallway, shouting for Dr. Whale that he was a willing donor.  As Neal was practically dragged into the operating room by the doctor, he cast a long look back at Emma.  Despite herself, she couldn’t help but look back.    
    Then she turned away, You are getting a drink after this, she reminded herself, with your boyfriend.  You have a boyfriend, who you are getting a drink with.  Neal left you.  Don’t forget that.   
    “Well,” Regina followed Emma’s gaze, “This is awkward.”  She strolled forwards so she was standing next to the Savior, leaving both Mary Margaret and David out of earshot.    
    “Regina, I really don’t need to hear this right now-” Emma began, but the Evil Queen cut her off:   
    “I’m not judging you,” she explained, “All I’m saying is that true love doesn’t come around often, and when you get a second chance at it...” Regina cut herself off, “In a way, I envy you.  I wish I had a second chance at it.”   
    “Maybe you do,” Emma replied, trying to deflect the conversation away from Regina’s insinuations about Neal and her.  At Emma’s comment, Regina’s tone suddenly became dark:   
    “No, I really don’t think so.  Even when I was supposed to get my second chance, I threw it away.”    
    With that, Regina shook her head and said, “Call me if there’s any change in his condition.”   

* * *

 

After Pan’s attack on Ferdinand, the students had been let out of school early.  Mary Margaret and Regina had initially forced Wendy to stay in the principal’s office immediately following the fight.  They didn’t want her to see even more bloodshed caused by Pan.  The girl had been furious and devastated- she knew there was only one reason they’d keep her in there.  However, by the time she’d been allowed out, the floor had been scrubbed clean, and that one reason was apparently allowed to take her back to her house at the edge of town.  Peter and Wendy didn’t speak the entire walk back.  Even though Pan had managed to clean himself up- if she didn’t know him as well as she did, she wouldn’t have even seen the telltale marks on his knuckles -she knew he had hurt Ferdinand.  Both angry and depressed, Wendy wasn’t going to deign to speak to him.  Peter, true to his promise not to force her too quickly into being the Wendy Darling of Neverland, permitted her this silence and rage.  He didn’t like it, but he understood it.     
    Once Peter had seen Wendy safely delivered home, he’d decided to pay a visit to someone who needed to make a decision as to which side he’d play for.  Pan was fairly certain what the outcome would be- the person had had an entire week to think about it, after all -but Pan never left things unchecked anymore.    
    A bell tinkled above, announcing his entrance:   
    “Hello, Laddie.”   
    Rumplestiltskin stood behind the counter of his shop.  He sighed, but he’d known that this meeting was inevitable.    
    “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, “though if you wouldn’t mind, could you turn the sign around?  I don’t want to be interrupted.”  Pan raised an eyebrow at the man’s casual tone, but did as he asked, flipping the sign to “Closed,” so no stray visitors would enter the shop.  For good measure, Pan also pulled the shade down, a small screech accompanying the plastic flaps as they fell over the dusty window.    
    “Is your lovely wife around?” the boy asked.   He raked his eyes all over the pawn shop, not only appraising the goods contained within, but also possible places where eavesdroppers could be lurking.    
    “No,” Rumplestiltskin replied, “She’s at the library.  Won’t be back until four, though I’d recommend we keep this visit brief.”   
    “Watch yourself, Laddie,” Peter warned.  He walked forwards and leaned across the counter, “I’d like to know your decision about our deal.”   
    “I’d like a bit more information before I decide,” Rumplestiltskin said, “Let me see the exact terms of the contract you made with the Savior and Regina.”   
    Pan chuckled, “Very good, Laddie.  A wise decision, but as you wish.  I brought the deed along with me.” He reached into his pouch and pulled a piece of parchment from it- he’d had one of the boys steal it that morning.  Carefully, he spread it on the glass of the counter.  Although the contract was a week old, the blood still shimmered wetly on it, signifying it hadn’t been broken or concluded.  The terms were written in beautiful curled script:   
  
1.  Peter Pan may not kill anyone.   
2.  Storybrooke belongs to Emma Swan and Regina Mills from sunrise until sunset.  From dusk until dawn, it belongs to Peter Pan.   
3.  No curses.  
4.  No Lost Boy may be imprisoned.      
5.  Henry Mills may not be kidnapped.   
6.  The holdings of Regina Mills become the holdings of Peter Pan.       
  
    Upon reading the them, Rumplestiltskin swore under his breath, “They should have asked me to look over this.”    
    “Oh, they should have asked you, or Hook, or even Baelfire,” Pan shrugged, “but the Savior was so desperate to protect her son she acted rashly, and took the Evil Queen with her.”  But they didn’t ask, and these are the terms that they agreed to.”    
    “Fools,” Rumplestiltskin said.   He said nothing else for almost a minute, and simply rolled up the parchment and returned it to Pan.  For his part, the boy took it, then inquired:   
    “What do you say, Laddie?  Do we have a deal?”       

* * *

 

  
   _The little boy heard the pipe music, and shot up in bed.  It wafted softly in on the wind, and he rushed to the window.  Sure enough, two other boys climbed down the sides their houses, jumping into the dust beneath.  At first, he too opened it, but as he looked out, a rush of fear filled him.  It was far too great a height.  Biting his lip, he opened the door to his room, hastily picked up his straw doll, and ran as quietly as he could to the door of the cottage, praying he didn’t wake the two women who watched over him._  
 _Then he too joined the motley pair heading towards the forest.  They were ahead of him, running and whooping with joy.  He tried with all his might to catch up.  By the time he reached the clearing they were already dancing, jumping madly around a fire to otherworldly music.  The    music itself came from another boy, dressed in dark green.  He held pipes to his lips, smiling as he watched the others dance._  
 _After a few minutes, the mysterious boy stopped playing.  The two boys who had been dancing also stopped, breathing heavily._  
 _“I’m glad to meet you,” the boy in green addressed the others, “I don’t know if you’ve heard the stories abut me?”_  
 _“They say you’re part fey, and that you can fly,” a boy with bright copper hair said, “that you save boys from awful situations.  Give them a new start.”_  
 _“That I do,” the boy in green said, “a new start, in a new world.  It’s a world where you’ll live forever, playing games and having fun, where there are no grown-ups to tell you what to do.  There are dangers, of course- Indians, and pirates -but they love a good fight, and all fights are good when you’ve got loyal friends by your side.”_  
 _“Friends?” the second boy asked, this one with brown hair and freckles._  
 _“Yes,” the boy in green confirmed, “There are others, many who have accepted my offer.  They live in Neverland with me. We are each other’s family, and we regard each other as brothers.”_  
 _Immediately, the copper-haired boy said, “I want to go.”_  
 _The brown-haired boy added, “Me too.”_  
 _The boy in green smiled, “Good.  Then let me introduce myself properly:  I’m Peter Pan,” he bowed, “leader of the Lost Boys.  That’s what we call ourselves.  And there’s a tradition on the island that every Lost Boy gets a new name, so they can enjoy the new life they have here and forget the old.  Let’s begin,” he stood before the copper-haired boy, “Fox, I think.  You’ve very clever, and you deduced who I was quickly.  Plus, there’s your hair,” Peter grinned, speaking to the brown-haired boy, “And you!  I’ve never seen anyone run so fast!”_  
 _The brown-haired boy flushed with pleasure, “Thank you.  I’m Dashan.”  He extended his hand for Peter to shake, and delighted, Peter inquired:_  
 _“Your name here is Dashan?”_  
 _“Yes,” the brown-haired boy replied.  He hoped he hadn’t done something to offend Pan and make him change his mind about taking him to Neverland._  
 _“That’s perfect!” Peter practically crowed, “Dash it is!”  At once, Dash’s eyes lit up, and Fox gave him a congratulatory slap on the back.  The two were already displaying a camaraderie that Pan knew well, for it was inherent to all Lost Boys._  
 _“Now,” Pan reached for a pouch at his belt, pleased with his decision, “You can come with me-”_  
 _Suddenly, the little boy- who had been observing unnoticed -cried out, “Please, take me too!”  He pushed his way between a stunned Dash and Fox, nearly shoving their long legs aside with his small elbows._  
 _Peter raised his eyebrows, and the other boys looked around in shock at the little boy, who gazed desperately up at the boy in green:_  
 _“Please, take me with you!”_  
 _“Who are you?” Peter asked.  He was incredibly curious.  The child was panting, and had evidently run as fast as his legs could carry him.  He didn’t quite have the make of a Lost Boy- they would never tire so easily -but he was certainly interesting._  
 _“My name’s Rumplestiltskin,” the boy gasped out, hardly believing he was talking to a legend._  
 _“Rumplestiltskin,” Pan said, “Quite a long name.  And where are you from, Rumplestiltskin?  Not a land called Scotland, by any chance?”  It was possible, Peter supposed, for someone to cross worlds.  After all, he did._  
 _“No,” the little boy’s forehead furrowed, “I’ve never heard of it.  I’m from the village, same as Charlie and Dashan.  Why?”_  
 _Pan smiled faintly, “I’ve been there before, and the people there have very thick accents, like you,” he shook his head, “but I’m afraid that I can’t take you with me.”_  
 _“Why not?” Rumplestiltskin asked,“I thought you saved boys!” He was utterly devastated by Pan’s pronouncement._  
 _“I do.”_  
 _“Then you have to save me,” Rumple said miserably, “You have to!”  He grabbed onto Peter’s pant leg.  Had he not been so despairing at the chance of being left behind, he would have been fascinated by the construction of Peter’s garments.  They were made entirely of leaves and leather, impossibly stitched together, and if you focused hard enough, ornamented with patterns.  The little boy would have loved to have such clothes._  
 _“And why is that?” Pan leaned down on one knee to talk to the child face to face._  
 _“My father,” Rumplestiltskin said, tears bubbling up in time with his trembling voice, “He doesn’t care about me-” Rumple rubbed his eyes, unaware of the darkening look in Peter’s own, “-he just goes off, and he tricks people, and he leaves me behind.  For days.  I’m always afraid he won’t come back,” Rumple sniffled, “The other day, he got drunk, and he- he- told me he never wanted a son- that he never wanted me.”_  
 _“I’m sorry, Rumple,” Pan replied, almost affectionately, “very sorry.  But I can’t take you with me.  You have to be a certain kind of a boy to live in Neverland, and I don’t think you are.”  A part of him wished it had been otherwise, for if anyone needed to be saved, this boy did._  
 _“He’ll be all right,” Dash interrupted Pan’s thoughts, “His father’s an awful cheat, but when he’s gone, Rumple stays with two women from the village.  They care deeply for him.”  At those words, Peter felt somewhat better- the boy wasn’t being left alone, and he had people who would watch over him._  
 _Rumplestiltskin, for his part, was incredulous that Dash had brushed off his horrendous life as something of little consequence.  He scowled at Dash, but tears fell freely down his face as he begged Pan:_  
 _“Let me prove it to you! Let me prove it!  I can be anything!  I can do it!”_  
 _Peter paused, assessing the little boy.  He was warring with himself- he knew, inherently, that Rumplestiltskin would not survive in Neverland.  The boy was too small, for one, and he didn’t seem very brave.  It was true that size could be made up for in skill, but bravery couldn’t be learned.  However, something in Rumplestiltskin’s words tugged at Pan- both the child’s utter heartbreak at his father’s declaration and his assertions that he could do anything._  
 _It reminded him, rather discomfitingly, of another small boy he’d once known._  
 _At last, Peter sighed, “All right, Rumple.  We’ll make a deal.  You can come to Neverland, and you’ll have three days to complete a task to prove you can be a Lost Boy.  If you succeed, you can stay with us, but if not, you have to come back to the Enchanted Forest.”_  
 _Rumplestiltskin’s eyes lit up at the prospect, “Yes!  Thank you, thank you!” He clapped his hands together delightedly.  Fox and Dash shot doubtful glances at one another, but they said nothing.  They wouldn’t dare contradict their new leader.   Peter, in turn, retrieved a small portion of pixie dust._  
 _“To get to Neverland,” he explained, “We’re going to fly.”  Before the others had a chance to question them, he threw some pixie dust on them.  As soon as the dust settled on them, the three boys immediately began to float.  Dash and Fox looked down from the ground, to each other, and finally to Peter._  
 _Pan paused, enjoying their anticipation, then announced, “You’ve heard about navigating by the stars?”  The three nodded, and he could practically feel their eagerness to launch into the air.  He understood it.  He loved flying.  The sensation- rather like him, he mused -never grew old.  It was amazing, and exhilarating, and it made his blood sing in a way nothing ever had._  
 _He knew it would do the same for them- or at least, two of them._  
 _“That’s what you do when you fly.  From this world,” Pan cast his gaze up, “Neverland is the sixth star to the right,” he indicated a star, twinkling more brightly than all the others around it.  As he pointed to it, it seemed to glow brighter, as if recognizing its greatest denizen was noting its location._  
 _Peter commanded, “Follow me!”_  
 _With that, he leaped into the sky.  Dash and Fox yelled with exultation and jumped into the air as well.  They did their best to follow him- they weren’t as good at flying, of course, though no one ever was -but they figured out how to increase their speed fairly quickly.  A few minutes later, they were doing backflips._  
 _Laddie lagged behind.  He gulped- he hadn’t expected that he would have to fly.  How would he be sure he wouldn’t fall?  There was nothing to stop it or cushion him.  He could die, and this would all have been for nothing.  He would just be a pile of blood and guts on the ground-_  
 _Just then, he felt someone tug his hand.  Laddie looked up to find Peter gripping him firmly:_  
 _“Come on, Laddie.  Flying isn’t scary.”  He said nothing beyond that, but instead rocketed back up to meet Dash and Fox.  Laddie clapped his other hand over his mouth (at the same time somehow managing to hold onto his doll) as the ground went farther and farther away from him.  Trees disappeared, growing smaller and smaller until they were the size of ants.  Then, they were rocketing through the clouds.  Laddie pushed back the urge to panic- he couldn’t see any of the others -but, he reminded himself, he could feel Pan’s hand.  Peter had given him a chance, even if he hadn’t wanted to at first.  He wouldn’t let Laddie fall.  He wouldn’t.  Accordingly, Laddie made himself look upward- to his future, and to this strange boy leading him there._  

* * *

 

  
   _As Peter led the three boys through the space between worlds, he considered just how he was going to deal with Laddie.  The child still clung tightly to his hand, but now he was looking around in wonder.  He seemed amazed by the sheer amount of stars.  Pan swallowed.  He remembered being amazed too._  
 _Still, that didn’t change the fact that Laddie was decidedly not Peter.  Laddie would never be able to just go to a new world and adapt (never mind build one, as Peter had done).  If Laddie even had a chance at becoming a Lost Boy, Pan would have to give him something simple to do- something that would be obvious to any Lost Boy, so if Laddie truly was a Lost Boy, and Peter’s instincts were wrong, the child could prove himself quickly.  But, he mused, if the little boy couldn’t complete the task, he couldn’t trap the boy there.  Laddie would be dead within a few days if he couldn’t prove himself.  He had to give him some sort of way out._  
 _Then he recalled his Shadow’s words to him:  “None who touch Neverland’s soil can ever leave.”_   
   _If Peter was correct- and he almost always was -if Laddie didn’t touch the soil of Neverland proper, Laddie could still return to the Enchanted Forest.  He nodded to himself- yes, that was the way to work around this.  Perhaps the only way.   Once he counted to the sixth star, he shouted:_  
 _“Six!”_  
 _Immediately, the four boys were pulled towards Neverland.  The other stars disappeared, the blackness faded, and as they approached the island, the sun blazed before him in a stunning display of gold.  The sky was a perfect blue, behind it, as it eternally was, and dotted with fluffy white clouds.  A few mermaids, alerted to his approach (for they, like almost everything on the island, could discern his presence) jumped out of the water to wave.  Cheekily, he waved back, then shouted at them to summon the other Lost Boys:  they were going swimming._  
 _“See them?” Pan declared as a group of boys eagerly ran into the ocean, “Those are the other Lost Boys!”_  
 _Dash and Fox needed no other explanation.  They quickly flew towards the water, diving in with great splashes.  They were greeted with cheers by the other Lost Ones, who were always thrilled when new boys joined them.  It was true, what Peter had said, that they treated each other as brothers.  The Lost Boys viewed Dash and Fox as the newest members of their extraordinary family._  
 _Laddie, meanwhile, stared at the scene with wide eyes.  He wanted to jump in- he really did -but he didn’t know how.  Dash and Fox had already distracted the Lost Boys.  Wouldn’t he just be interrupting them?  A late addition?  Second best?_  
 _No, Laddie thought, They are your family.  Nevertheless, he held Peter’s hand until they descended into the sea themselves.  Laddie gasped.  The water was warmer than any he’d ever been in, and it was a beautiful shade of turquoise.  He could see straight to the bottom, where fish of every color of the rainbow swam about, creating intricate shapes.  As he came back to the surface, he heard the cries of joy from the Lost Boys at the return of their leader:_  
 _“Welcome back, Peter!”_  
 _“We missed you!”_  
 _“Why are we swimming now, Peter?  We want to go fight the Indians!”_  
 _“Because, Laddie promised to prove his worth as a Lost Boy by performing some task for us,” Peter announced, indicating the child with a turn of his head, “Any ideas?  Rufio?” He expected his second to ascertain his own plan._  
 _Laddie nervously treaded water.  He was trying to identify all the boys.  They were all dressed differently- some in fur, some in some strange animal hides.  They made quite the spectacle, but who was the one who Pan had addressed?_  
 _A boy with black and red hair oddly styled in spikes sticking straight out of his head, swam around Laddie, studying him- he had to be Rufio.  Laddie swallowed, but Rufio didn’t seem like a mean sort.  Rufio turned to Pan, confused at first, but at Pan’s gaze shrugged.  Then he approached Laddie directly._  
 _“I think,” Rufio bit back a smile, “he should steal Tiger Lily’s headdress.”_  
 _“Tiger Lily?” Laddie asked, “Who’s that?”_  
 _“You see, Laddie, there are other people who live in Neverland, too,” Peter explained,  “There’s a tribe of Indians, and the daughter of their chief is named Tiger Lily.  She’s very pretty, very proud-”_  
 _“-and very dangerous with a hatchet,” another boy interjected, this one with mussed dark brown hair and blue eyes.  His voice was contained a clear warning._  
 _Rufio shrugged again, “Slightly, you know a Lost Boy can defend himself against Tiger Lily.”_  
 _Slightly shot both Rufio and Pan an uneasy look.  Laddie could practically see the doubt in it:  Yes, a Lost Boy could- but this boy isn’t a Lost Boy._  
 _“I’ll do it!” Laddie said at once, “I’ll do it!”_  
 _“Good,” Rufio nodded, “She’s over there.”  As one, the boys heads all swiveled to their left.  In the distance, they could make out a lone canoe.  Seated inside was an impossibly beautiful girl.  She wore a tan dress covered in red and turquoise beading, and like some of the boys, sported feathers in her hair, though hers were formed into a far more elegantly shaped headdress.  It rested atop long black locks.  She held a spear in her hands, and was stabbing at the water- fishing, apparently._  
 _Laddie wondered how on earth he was supposed to steal her headdress, never mind even get close to her.  Nevertheless, he had to do it.  So, he sighed, tucked his doll into his shirt so he could swim unencumbered, and softly paddled in her direction.  He stared at the Indian princess, who was standing straight up in her canoe- she was quite tall, far taller than Laddie -spear poised to attack a large, silver fish.  She looked almost like an image out of a picture book, frozen in time, her full lips pursed in concentration.  The little boy wasn’t sure how long he stayed, just watching her.  He hurriedly considered options in his mind..._  
Her headdress, _Laddie mused,_ I have to get it off her.  I can distract her, maybe, or offer her something _-  though what he had to offer a princess, he didn’t know._  
 _Eventually, he took a deep breath, and seeing no other option, swam up to her canoe.  He struggled to swing himself aboard, and Tiger Lily knew at once that something was amiss.  Baring her teeth, she whipped around, spied him, and hissed:_  
 _“What are you doing, little boy?  I won’t have you ruin my hunt!”_  
 _Her eyes were a vibrant gold, and Laddie gaped at her.  She practically simmered with anger._  
 _“I- I-,” Laddie struggled to get the words out, “If you could- I need, um, I need help-”_  
 _Tiger Lily raised one eyebrow, arch haughty and aristocratic, “What kind of Lost Boy begs for help?”_  
 _Laddie didn’t know how to respond.  He wanted to be a Lost Boy, but it seemed he was already failing miserably.  Finally he said:_  
 _“I’m not begging.  I’m making a deal with you.”_  
 _“A deal?” the princess laughed, the sound like a chorus of bells, “And what could you possibly have to give me?”_  
 _Heart racing, Laddie scrambled to find something Tiger Lily might like.  Fixating on what he’d heard the boys say, he asked:_  
 _“You don’t like the Lost Boys, right?”_  
 _“No,” Tiger Lily said flatly, “I don’t.” She observed Laddie as he attempted to get his chest onto her canoe.  Then, tired of his pathetic struggles, she grabbed his arm and pulled him fully on board.  He sprawled at her feet, staring first at her moccasins, and then up at her.  Tiger Lily, for her part, continued to stare back at him.  She didn’t trust him- that much was obvious -but she was intrigued.  Suspicion and curiosity practically floated off her in waves._  
 _“You fight them, right?” Laddie added._  
 _“Yes,” she bent down so they were face to face, noses inches apart.  She tilted her head to the left, and Laddie had the discomfiting sense he was dealing with something otherworldly.  There was something strange about Tiger Lily- it was as if she were a fake creature, a sort of copy of what should have been.  She was undeniably beautiful, but her beauty was too perfect.  There was no fault to her, from her black hair, which fluttered in the wind like the finest silk, to her catlike golden eyes, to her taut arms and legs.  Not even a birth mark marred her skin.   It unnerved Laddie more than he already was._  
 _“What if I could- if I could help you sneak into their camp?” Laddie offered.  He had no intention, of course, of doing such a thing.  He was simply grasping at straws, and this seemed to be the one thing that, for whatever reason, intrigued Tiger Lily._  
 _For an instant, the princess said nothing.  She stayed in that position- head tilted, bent down to meet the boy’s gaze.  Then she wrapped her fingers in his shirt collar and yanked him upwards, so he was fully off his feet.  Laddie gasped for breath and kicked, his feet swinging wildly in the air._  
 _“You think I need your help?” Tiger Lily giggled, “Foolish boy!” all at once, her eyes narrowed into slits, “and a lying one.  You’re not a Lost Boy, are you?”_  
 _Laddie simply tried to get more oxygen into his throat.  The princess murmured, “If not a Lost Boy, then what are you?”  The boy’s eyes widened in fear as Tiger Lily’s right hand reached behind her back to remove a hatchet._  
 _“You’re a pretender,” she declared, “wearing a costume, trying to interfere in a game you aren’t supposed to play.”  Laddie bristled at her words, and he managed to gasp out:_  
 _“I’m- not- pretending!  I- I am...a Lost Boy!”_  
 _“If that is the case...then you are being most disloyal to them.  They are my enemies, and my people and I love to fight them, but a traitor in their ranks does not make a fair fight,” Tiger Lily paused, “I should scalp you for such dishonorable behavior.”  She raised her hatchet, and Laddie whimpered as she held it before his eyes.  At the noise, she said:_  
 _“You’re lucky I don’t believe you, little liar.”  Then, without further ado, she threw him back into the water, laughing all the while._  
 _Humiliated, Laddie swum back to the other boys.  Some of them looked at him with sympathy, some with distaste.  Others whispered to one another, and instinctively, Laddie wanted to cower from the murmurs._  
 _“It’s all right,” Pan said soothingly, “You wouldn’t be the first to cross Tiger Lily and fail.  You all had to learn.”  Those words silenced the boys, and they all shut their mouths. A few had the grace to look contrite, but most still looked at Laddie as if he was a foreign creature who simply did not belong._  
 _“Another task, perhaps...” Pan mused, “Nibs.  What say you?”_  
 _A different Lost Boy, this one standing in shallower water, bit his lip.  He had shoulder length brown hair, and hazel eyes.  He wore a brown strip of cloth around his forehead, and he considered the small boy pensively.  It was obvious to him that Pan wanted Laddie to stay- he knew his friend well.  And though others might have wondered why Pan did not merely grant the boy permission to stay on the island if he wished it, Nibs didn’t.  He knew Pan always had his reasons.  However, Nibs knew he was tasked with coming up with something easy for the boy._  
 _“Take a mermaid’s scales,” Nibs decided at last.  He met Laddie’s eyes evenly, and Laddie wasn’t sure what to make of him.  Nibs seemed rather serious, and it was strange to see a serious Lost Boy._  
 _Peter nodded approvingly, “You heard him.  Go head, Laddie.”_   
   _“I-” Laddie trailed off, taken aback by the faces of the others staring at him expectantly.  Was this so simple for them?  None of them seemed fazed by the momentous task he’d just been given.  A few even looked bored, as if this was too easy._  
 _“I will,” he muttered at last, “I just...I need some time to rest.”_  
 _“Very well,” Pan said, “Rest all you like.  You can go onto those rocks there, but don’t step foot on the island.”_  
 _“Why not?”_  
 _Not sure how else to ensure the boy didn’t do it, Peter promised, “Because I’ll make you regret not listening to me.”  The words were darker than Laddie expected from Pan, who he had started to consider his friend.  Still, the child nodded- after all, if he didn’t have the Lost Boys, what would he have?_  
 _“Well,” another Lost Boy drawled, this one with shaggy blonde hair, “If we all aren’t planning on touching Neverland, that’s fine with me, but I would be grateful if we could eat.  I don’t mind if we make a picnic on the rocks.”_  
 _Pan laughed, “Quite right, Felix. Let’s eat.  I’m sure you’re all hungry.” He led them over to an outcropping of rocks that almost touched the shore.  All of the boys hoisted themselves onto them, a few laying back lazily in the sun so their clothes could dry._  
 _“Now, the first thing to learn about Neverland,” Peter lectured the new Lost Boys, “one of the best things, is that you can imagine almost anything.    Think of what you want, wish for it, and you should have it. Try it.”   The older Lost Boys, well-practiced in such things, immediately imagined themselves breakfast.  It took Fox and Dash a few tries, but they were new at this.  With some encouragement, they managed it in due course.  Laddie, unfortunately, was having trouble._  
 _Peter sighed, and flew over to him, “What do you want?”_  
 _Laddie’s lip trembled, “I can imagine it-” He was incredibly embarrassed.  He’d already failed at one task, and now he couldn’t even manage food.   How was he supposed to keep up with them?_  
 _“It’s okay.  It takes a little to get used to.  Just let me do it for now; you don’t want to be tired for your task.”_  
 _“Eggs in a basket,” Laddie requested, “It’s my favorite breakfast.” He added the last part almost as an aside.  His father never remembered that- then again, his father never cared to remember anything about him, never mind his favorites._  
 _“Easy enough.  How do you like the yolk?”_  
 _“Runny, please.”_   
   _“Me too,” Pan smiled.  He waved his hand, and there it was, before Laddie’s very eyes.  Laddie gaped at Pan.  He couldn’t understand what he’d just seen- he knew magic existed, of course.  But to simply imagine something and have it appear, without even a spell?  Not one incantation?_  
 _“How did you do that?” Laddie breathed, “There must be some way-”_  
 _“You just think it, and it is,” Peter shrugged, “If you’re truly a Lost Boy, you’ll pick up on it quickly.”_  
 _“How soon?” Laddie questioned, filled with desire to learn this new power._  
 _“Oh, within a few days or so,” Pan grinned, “You’re awfully eager to prove yourself.”  A strange light filled his eyes as he noted Laddie’s blush, “Do you want to try again?”_  
 _Laddie shoved an egg into his mouth, trying not to choke, “Not- not just yet.  It’s been a long journey, and I’m tired.”_  
 _Peter paused, “Suit yourself.  Though the sooner you try, the better, in my opinion.”  Then he was off to chat to the other boys, leaving Laddie to watch him from afar._

* * *

 

  
_The rest of the day was spent playing on the rocks and in the waves.  A few times, Laddie thought about interrupting to ask about when he could get the mermaid’s scales, but the others were having such fun- and he was finally blending in.  The younger boys were splashing each other, diving into the waves and occasionally pushing each other in.  They were starting to look at him with less distaste.  And Laddie, reveling in their acceptance, didn’t want to remind them he still had to prove himself.  So they played and played, hours passing by.  When the sun set, the exhausted boys pitched camp on the shore.  Laddie, mindful of Pan’s warning, sought out one of the few flat rocks to sleep on.  He was a bit scared to sleep so close to the water, but another boy- Wicks -climbed on a nearby rock and reassured him it was perfectly safe.  With a sort of wary trust, Laddie put his faith in him, and fell asleep._   
_So it was that two days passed in this manner.  It was only on the morning of the third day that Laddie realized, with a start, that he had to prove himself today.  There were no other options.   He rose early, and immediately began seeking out a group of mermaids.  What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was that the mermaids always slept late.  They never rose until just before midday, and even then, they typically went to sun themselves.  They rested on the shoreline, and occasionally even perched on rocks, but Laddie knew he couldn’t step onto the island itself.  He had to wait for them to come back into the water.  Laddie sighed as he counted them.  Most of them- there were a group of twenty who lived in Neverland’s waters -had chosen to relax on the shoreline.  They were so close. He hated that he couldn’t get to them.  However, he was never one to give up, and by his count, there were three mermaids who were still missing.         Laddie had learned the mermaids tended to go anywhere Peter did (if he was nearby water), and consequently kept an eye out for the older boy whenever he went into the ocean.  It seemed to take Peter forever to go swimming today. He’d disappeared into the jungle, most of the Lost Boys trailing after him, save Laddie, who was keenly aware that if he stepped on the island the deal would be void.  Then Peter had flown back and forth through the treetops.  Laddie could see a few of the other boys jump into the air after him, and it appeared as though they were playing tag.  Frustrated, the little boy bit his lip.  He didn’t have time for them to play tag- he had to win!  Didn’t they realize that they could play tag once Laddie had proved himself?  All Peter had to do was just get in the water, just for a little bit-_   
_Finally, it was as though Peter had heard Laddie’s anxious thoughts.  The game of tag concluded, a sweaty Pan jumped into the water, the other boys following after him.  Small splashes marked their entrances into the ocean, but it was easy enough to spot where Peter was.   Even if he weren’t floating calmly on his back, the mermaids approaching him would have given his presence away, their tails flickering in the sun._   
_Take a mermaid’s scales..._   
_Laddie didn’t dare wait a moment longer.  Arms pumping desperately, trying to use a strength he didn’t have, he swam as fast as he could toward the three mermaids fawning over Peter.  He surfaced for breath every so often, though he did his best to remain quiet.  The mermaids were more or less friendly to the Lost Boys (though it was blatantly obvious they were interested in Peter), however, they had extremely acute hearing.  He didn’t want them to ascertain his presence until it was too late.  Nervously, he considered how he was going to get the scales.  Wicks had loaned him a knife the other day so he could cut fruit.  Laddie had yet to give it back- now, he supposed, was the time to use it. He cautiously removed the knife from its sheath at his waist, and selected his target: a mermaid with an effervescent green-blue tail.  She wore a rich necklace about her throat, a top made of bronze metal, and beads in her dark hair.  She was presently simpering at Peter, and her back was to Laddie.  Her tail swung back and forth gently in the ocean, the movement just enough to keep her afloat- and slow enough for Laddie to slice a few scales off her tail._   
_Or so he hoped._   
_Gulping, Laddie reached forward with knife, straining to cut some of the scales._   
_Abruptly, a wave crashed into Laddie’s face, throwing him backwards.  He tumbled over and over, salt water flooding into his mouth.  He choked it down, struggling to gain his bearings.  Blinking as the water stung his eyes, he had just enough time to see the mermaid whose scales he’d hoped to take.  No longer simpering, her brown eyes were wild with rage. She screeched at him, and raked her nails down his arm.  The wound was deep, and Laddie freely bled.  Sickened by the sight of his own blood, he kicked towards the surface.  Once he reached the air, he gasped out in pain and stared at the lines of bright red streaking down his arm. It dripped into the ocean, and Laddie bit back tears.   This wasn’t supposed to happen.  He was supposed to get the scales, slice them off easily- just like fish back home -and present them to Peter, and he would proudly announce that Laddie was a true Lost Boy.  The others would cheer and toast him, declaring there would be a banquet in his honor tonight._   
_He wasn’t supposed to bleed._   
_“Come on, Laddie.”  The boy looked up to see Peter towing him towards the rocks. Laddie fought to keep his tears back, but it didn’t work.  He was openly sobbing by the time they reached the rock.  He crawled atop the closest one- the one he’d made into his bed these past few nights -and clutched his wounded arm to his chest.  Peter didn’t say anything, simply stared at him for a long while.  The other Lost Boys, who had also been playing in the ocean at the time of Laddie’s ill-fated encounter with the mermaid, had grown quiet.  They sat on the sand, a few whispering to each other, but the words were lost to the winds of the island._   
_Laddie lost track of how long he cried.  It seemed he couldn’t hold back the tears.  Why couldn’t he do this?  He just wanted to belong.  He wanted the family that he had been denied by his father.  Here Laddie could have so many brothers, not just a straw doll given to him by his father to “keep him company” while he went away and gambled.   He’d grown to like the others, too.  Laddie couldn’t imagine leaving them to just go back to a simple doll, hollow reminder of familial affection that it was._   
_Finally, Laddie stopped.  It seemed as though his body could not produce any more tears, although he was saddened enough to try.  He raised his head to face the others.  Most of the Lost Boys looked at him with pity, but Peter’s gaze was inscrutable as he said:_   
_“One last chance, Laddie.”_   
_Stunned, the boy’s jaw dropped.  Was it really to end like this?_   
_“But I thought I had three days!” he protested._   
_“You do,” Peter conceded, “but the third day is almost over.”  He indicated the sky behind him, where the great, golden sun had started to descend towards the waves._   
_“Tell me,” Laddie pled, “Tell me what I have to do.”_   
_“Find some pixie dust,” Peter commanded immediately._   
_Find pixie dust? Laddie thought frantically, Find pixie dust!?  But where?  Wicks told me the fairies have it, but they’re on the island, and I can’t go on the island- how can I get it!?  Minutes ticked by, and Laddie was filled with utmost anguish.  He turned to look at each and every Lost Boy, silently begging for their help.  Rufio, Nibs, Slightly, Wicks, Felix.  Their lips were set in straight lines, and they offered no clues._   
_Realizing that he was alone, and defeated, and that he had lost any chance he had, Laddie sunk to his knees on the rock, bowed his head, and managed to squeeze out a few final tears.  They slid unceremoniously down his cheeks and plopped onto the rock, but he knew he would gain no sympathy.  There was no escaping this._   
_As the sun set behind Pan, he said, “Sorry, Laddie, but we had a deal.”   He held out his hand to Laddie, and forlornly, the boy took it.  He went to pick up his doll, bending down to feel behind a rock- he’d hidden it there on the second day, not wanting the other boys to make fun of him -but barely grasped it before Pan flew into the sky.  As they hurtled towards the stars, Laddie lost his grip, and the doll tumbled to the ground, settling in the sand before the Lost Boys._

* * *

   
 _The Dark One searched among the crowd of dancing boys.  He recognized the song, in the back of his memory, but he couldn’t quite place it.  He was too focused on finding Bae.   Angrily, he approached the piper:_  
 _“Where’s my son, Piper?” He broke the wooden pipes with a snap._  
 _Amused, the Piper- whose face was hidden under a red cloak -replied, “Is that what they’re calling me?” he swept the cloak over his head, “We both know who I really am.”_  
 _Rumplestiltskin froze, completely stunned.  He couldn’t fathom that this being- appearing exactly as he had the last time they’d met, hundreds of years ago -was here.  Rumplestiltskin looked him over, from head to toe, but nothing had changed about him, save the addition of his cloak._  
 _“Been a long time, Laddie,” Peter Pan cocked his head, “Glad you could make the show.”  He smirked, and raised an eyebrow.  Instantly, the Dark One felt chills run up his spine.  He’d once thought of Pan as his savior, begging him to take him to Neverland.  While Pan had taken him there, he’d made him a joke for the other boys, setting him to all sorts of meaningless tasks and trials for him to prove himself.  Rumplestiltskin had failed, terribly- as Pan had known all along that he would.  Pan had then returned him to the Enchanted Forest, where Rumple had discovered, to his horror, that he had been gone for eight years, and his father had abandoned him for good._  
 _“Surprised to see me, Rumple?” Pan inquired, “Well, I don’t blame you.  I’m a little surprised myself.”  He talked as if they were old acquaintances who had stumbled across each other in a park.  Pan’s tone was utterly nonchalant, and completely without remorse.  He felt no shame or regret for what he’d done to Rumplestiltskin as a child, and it was that, that utter lack of guilt, that unnerved Rumple the most._  
 _“Look who’s all grown up and become the Dark One.  Good for you!” Pan congratulated him.  The sincerity in his tone infuriated Rumple, and he snarled:_  
 _“What are you doing here?”_  
 _“What I’ve always done.  Found Lost Boys,” Peter said proudly.  It was his life’s work, and he would never deny it._  
 _“You’re looking for my son,” the Dark One said, more horrified than ever as he grasped the meaning behind the eternal boy’s words._  
 _“I am,” Pan confirmed.  He was grinning, but a darkness filled his eyes that hadn’t be there all those years ago._  
 _“It’s gonna take a lot more than a magic pipe to take my son,” Rumplestiltskin swore.  He would never let Bae become a victim of Pan’s lies as he had.  He loved his son too much to resign him to that fate._  
 _“The only thing magic about this pipe is that only certain boys can hear it:  boys who feel unloved, boys who feel lost,” suddenly, Peter stopped, realization hitting him, “I guess that’s why you can hear it, Rumple, isn’t it?”_  
 _“Don’t pretend to know me.  You don’t.  Not anymore,” Rumplestiltskin said each word separately and distinctly._  
 _“I think I do!  Beneath all that power, you’re nothing more than an unloved, lonely, lost boy!” Pan’s words cut through him like a knife, the distinct lack of capitals evident. A lost boy- not a Lost Boy.  He didn’t even have a place among the boys who truly were lost and found by Pan.  But Baelfire, if he was here, that meant-_  
 _“Baelfire will not be part of it,” Rumple stated.  He had known Bae was upset, and often unhappy with his actions, but he had no idea that his son felt unloved.  He vowed to himself he was going to change that fact- he would never let his son believe that again._  
 _“Oh, he’s already a part of it,” Pan smirked, “The question is....what are you willing to do to get him back?” It sounded dangerously like a deal._  
 _I’ll do anything...I’ll do anything!_  
 _“I’m gonna make you regret ever asking that question,” Rumple growled, his heart constricting at the memory of his own betrayal by Pan._  
 _“I understand you’re upset,” Pan said patronizingly, “Most parents’ worst fear is that their child will be taken away from them. But that’s not yours, is it, Rumple?” at Rumple’s aghast expression, Peter continued, “No, you’re not afraid Baelfire will be taken from you.  You’re afraid he’ll leave.   After all...being abandoned is what you’re good at, isn’t it?  Everyone you’ve ever known has left, haven’t they? Like Bae’s mother, Milah. Not to mention your own father.  Why should Baelfire be any different?”_  
 _“You’re wrong,” the Dark One whispered._  
 _“Am I?” Pan demanded, “Well let’s find out, shall we?  You ask Baelfire if he wants to come to Neverland with me, or stay here with you.  If he wants to stay, I’ll leave and never return. Deal?”_  
 _“I don’t have to make any deals with you,” Rumple said, stumbling backwards in shock and horror._  
 _“But why wouldn’t you?” Pan queried, the words razor sharp, “If you’re so sure he’ll stay.”_

* * *

  
    But Rumplestiltskin hadn’t been sure.  He didn’t know if Baelfire would stay, and he didn’t trust Pan.  He’d made that mistake, once before, and Pan had stolen his father from him.  Rumple wasn’t going to let him steal his son.  So Rumple had ignored Pan’s taunts and his rage and whisked Baelfire home, Pan’s words ringing in his ears: “You’re gonna regret not taking my deal, Rumple!”  And Rumplestiltskin had.  Perhaps if Rumple had let Baelfire make his own choice then, his son would have trusted him, and the horrible chain of events that had separated them, thrown them into different worlds, would never have occurred.          
    Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes.  In a sense, he supposed he’d always known it would come to this.  Pan had been a constant specter, floating over his life like some dark guardian angel.  He’d come to Rumplestiltskin when he’d needed it most, and Rumple thought Pan had given him a true chance to be a Lost Boy.  Instead, Pan knew from the beginning that he would fail, and set him up to do just that- and have his father leave him for good.  Rumplestiltskin had never forgiven the boy who’d stolen his father from him, but eventually, he’d gotten distracted by the intricacies of life.  He’d met Milah, and he’d had Bae, and then there was the war.  When Rumple became the Dark One, he’d been focused only on power, immortality, and his son.  He hadn’t dreamed that Pan would come back, though a part of him had always wondered what happened to the boy who had crossed dimensions and played his pipes.  Then Pan had almost taken Bae- later he had taken him anyway.  And finally, of course, there was Henry.  It seemed Pan was destined to haunt the generations of his family- unless Rumplestiltskin exorcised the ghost.  But, apparently, he could only do that by appeasing him- each of his prior efforts to defeat him had ended in misery.   
    At last, Rumple stared into Pan’s eyes.  They were the same color as they’d been so many years ago, but there was no longer a trace of human emotion.  There wasn’t sympathy, there wasn’t understanding.  There was just madness, and an unshakeable certainty in his own rightness.  There was a sense of destiny there, but also a sense of standing at a precipice- almost like a cliff about to break.    
    Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to think about what would happened when the cliff did break.  And he knew, instantly, that he didn’t want to be caught into the avalanche.   
    “We have a deal,” the Dark One said.  The four words echoed in the air, horribly final.      
    Pan’s face lit up in a smile, “I knew you’d come to see things my way.”  His grin sinister, he spun on his heel to leave the pawn shop.  The boy was utterly triumphant, and it showed in his every mannerism.  He’d eliminated the last person capable of standing in his way- perhaps the only person.  The Evil Queen and the Savior might have skilled magic, but they lacked the experience to go with it, and the drive to do absolutely anything.   Thus, they were no danger to him, and now, Rumplestiltskin- the only one who might have stood a chance, for he had both magic and at least some experience -wasn’t either.   
    “On one condition,” Rumple added.  At Rumplestiltskin’s words, Pan stopped in his tracks.  Casually, he sized up the man over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow:   
    “And what’s that, Laddie?”  
    “You can’t renege on this deal,” Rumplestiltskin postulated, “Not like you did when I was a boy.”  He crossed his arms, struggling to cover the hurt and bitterness that even now threatened to splinter through.      
    Pan laughed, “You think I went back on the deal? Set you up, Rumple?  Not even close.  Actually,” he considered the events that had transpired centuries before, “I gave you more chances than anyone.  The tasks I gave you were so easy.  Steal Tiger Lily’s headdress?  All you had to do was tip over her canoe and grab it off her head.  Take a mermaid’s scales?  Go in the lagoon and scrape some off a rock.  Find some pixie dust?  I always carry some with me- you saw it when we flew to Neverland!  If you even said I had it, I would have let you become a Lost Boy.  But you did none of those things.  You failed, Laddie.  Fair and square.”    
    “You failed to mention I’d be gone for years,” Rumple replied, his voice shaking with rage, “Anything you’re forgetting to mention now?”  He gripped the glass counter tightly, willing himself not to risk Belle’s and Bae’s safety by attacking Pan- or even ensure his own death by doing so.  
    Peter answered, “I’ve told you everything, Rumple.  We’re allies.  And besides,” he trailed off, “I wasn’t planning on letting you stay for that long.  I was going to give you a task and hoped you’d be done with it in hours.  You took longer, and then you were afraid.  It’s not my fault that you waited,” he paused, then added, “In fact, I always gave you an out.  You never touched Neverland’s soil, so you didn’t have to stay.  I gave you a chance, and then I gave you an escape.    
    “We both know you wouldn’t have survived on Neverland for more than a few days, but I gave you the opportunity anyway.  I guess I hated seeing yet another child abused by his father, especially when that child swore he’d do anything...” the boy trailed off, his face thoughtful.  Although Peter’s eyes continued to flicker with madness, it was clear he was recalling other events.     
    “What are you playing at, Pan?” Rumple inquired.  He refused to believe the boy.  A real chance?  Pan was lying.  He had to be.  And he knew what he was doing when he let Rumplestiltskin stay those three days.  Peter had always wanted him to fail.   
    “Nothing, this time.  I wasn’t then, and I’m not now,” abruptly, Peter’s tone changed from serious to charming, “So, do we have a deal?”  He was once again focused in the present and he wanted Rumple’s affirmation. Pan didn’t care much about their past- there was nothing to be done, and everything he’d said was true -he just wanted to know about their future.    
    “Yes,” the Dark One said through gritted teeth, and promised himself he wouldn’t shake hands with Peter.  He wouldn’t sign a contract.  Then again, all that some deals- including this one -needed were words, especially when it was two immortal beings making the deal.    
    Rumplestiltskin just hoped he was making the right choice.  He was, he told himself.  He absolutely was.         
 __

* * *

  
    Wendy slammed the door behind her.  Yet again, Peter had struck out at someone to hurt her.  Ferdinand hadn’t done anything except talk to her.  Pan had apparently decided to gut him (school gossip had already reached Grace, who’d immediately texted Wendy to let her know the full details of what had happened), but God, he didn’t deserve it.  Then again, almost no one Pan had ever injured in that way did deserve the treatment.  Still...    
    As she made her way into the living room, she gasped.  There, curled up on the corner of the couch, were Tink and Felix.  A plate of toast lay abandoned on the coffee table before them.  Felix himself sat with one arm around the fairy, who was dozing with her head resting in the crook of his shoulder.   
    “What are you doing?” Wendy demanded, dropping her backpack to the floor in time with her words. Felix barely turned around and shook his head, indicating she should speak more softly.   
    Wendy strode over to the pair and whispered, “What are you doing?” She was amazed at the sight, but also suspicious.  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end; she hated Felix, she hated him when he had control over his own heart, never mind when someone else did.  Seeing him hold Tinkerbell- whom she had begun to regard as her friend -made her stomach twist.   
    “Don’t look at me like that, Wendy,” Felix replied, “I took her home and I made her toast.  She told me I made it wrong, made me remake it, and then fell asleep on me.”  For once, he didn’t sound as though he was talking down to her.    
    “You can’t be serious.”  It made no sense.  The image before Wendy was so wrong that her brain couldn’t seem to process it.  Felix liked to hurt people, not hold them.  She’d seen it.  Then again, she was seeing this now...      
    “Why would I lie?” the Lost Boy drawled.      
    For that, Wendy had no answer.  Still, she insisted, “Okay, well I’m home now.  Let me take her to bed-”  
    “Why?” he inquired.  
    “Because-” Wendy froze mid-sentence.  She didn’t want to reveal she knew that Regina had taken Felix’s heart.  The Evil Queen had barely trusted her earlier that day.  She didn’t want to risk breaking that fragile trust.  Wendy had so few allies already, and she had a feeling Regina wouldn’t be pleased to discover Wendy knew Felix’s heart was currently in her possession. 

   Felix waited for her response, and finally, Wendy said, “She- she told me about you, and her-”  
    Felix’s eyes narrowed, and he asked, “Did she?” Gray orbs fixed on her, and for a second, Wendy was actually reminded of Pan.  However, Felix’s eyes didn’t seem to hold any malice- rather a burning curiosity.   
    “Yes-”      
    “Did she happen to mention why she left me?”    
    Wendy stared at Felix.  Regina had his heart, but did that mean she knew all his secrets?  Did she know the innermost workings of his soul?  More importantly, why would she care about this?  Or did Felix himself still have some freedom underneath the Evil Queen’s control?  And if he did, was he asking this question with genuine heartache in his eyes?   
    Even though Wendy knew the truth, she also knew better than to tell Felix about Pan’s order.  That might have even worse repercussions than today’s events at school.   
    “No,” Wendy said, “She didn’t.  But that’s why I should take her to bed.  I don’t think she’d want to wake up in your arms.”  Silently, she cursed herself for inflicting even more pain on the pair, but if she didn’t, Pan would inflict worse.  For a second, Felix looked absolutely devastated at her words, but the devastation was quickly replaced by anger.    
    “Fine,” Felix said, “If she asks, tell her she fell asleep on the couch.”   The words were filled with venom, but Wendy couldn’t help but notice that the Lost Boy was extraordinarily careful as he maneuvered around the fairy.  He was so careful her head merely fell back on a pillow, the touch so light she didn’t even move.   However, all traces of gentleness were gone when he picked up the plate of toast and tossed it unceremoniously into the trash, a few cracking noises discernible as the bread broke into pieces.  

 

* * *

  
    That night, Peter and a few of the Lost Boys- old and new -accompanied him upon entry to the hospital.  It was relatively easy to sneak through the halls- the hospital had only the bare minimum staff, due to the curfew, and no one suspected Peter would choose the hospital as a place to “play.”    
    They were wrong, and tonight, it would be to their detriment.  Peter, Slightly, Nibs, and Dodger skulked through the halls, staying within the shadows and out of sight of the cameras.  For Slightly and Nibs, of course, it was merely sinking back into old habits.  For Dodger, it was entirely new, and the two older Lost Boys kept a close watch on their new compatriot.  They wanted not only to train him in their ways, but to test his loyalty- much as Peter had tested them not long before.  However, Nibs supposed that Dodger’s test would be easier in that he and Ferdinand had never been friends.   
    Word had traveled fast through the town about Peter’s and Ferdinand’s fight- and the victor.   The new Lost Boys ones seemed pleasantly surprised by his victory, while the old ones merely complimented Pan as a matter of course when he’d returned to the mansion.  The most excited of them all had been Dodger, and it hadn’t taken Pan long to deduce why:   
    Owen Dodge had always been the loner in the school; the outcast.  Thus, he was the one easiest to pick on and bully.  And many popular students, including Ferdinand himself, had taken advantage of that, making fun of the boy on an almost daily basis.  Dodger had practically been jumping up and down when he’d heard of how Peter had taken down Ferdinand- it made Pan even more of a hero in his eyes.   
    “I can’t believe it!” Dodger had said, “Someone finally showed the jerk he doesn’t run everything!”   
    Pan had raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?  Is he cruel to you?”  The boy had nodded vigorously, and Peter smiled. He’d been looking for an excuse to rid himself of Ferdinand, and this was it.  It would also simultaneously earn Dodger’s gratitude and cement his loyalty to Pan forever.   
    So after dinner that night, Peter had asked Dodger to join him, Slightly, and Nibs on a trip.  Admittedly, Pan had told Dodger they would make Ferdinand...uncomfortable.  Still, if Dodger really was a Lost Boy, he would do as Pan requested.  And Peter was quite certain that Dodger would be a wonderful Lost Boy.   
    Peter pushed open the door to Ferdinand’s hospital room, and the well-oiled hinges made certain their entrance was silent.  Dodger tiptoed in after him, while Nibs and Slightly served as their cover.  They approached the boy in the bed.  Even asleep, Peter hated Ferdinand.  He’d tried to take Wendy away from him- twice.  The prince had made it clear he had no problems doing it again.    
    Well, Peter had no problems eliminating him.    
    “Wow,” Dodger breathed, “You really hurt him.”  He looked at Ferdinand, who was covered in wires, bandages, and a machine attached giving a small beep for each beat of his heart.  A few of the bandages were still soaked with blood, and the prince’s face was mottled with blue and green bruises.    
    “I believe I also broke his nose,” Pan observed.  He smirked at Dodger, and as expected Dodger laughed.    
    Good.   
    Peter, Dodger, and Slightly stood around the bed, while Nibs stood guard at the door.  Slightly stood closest to Ferdinand’s heart monitor.  The beeping blared in his ears, and even after three months in Storybrooke, the sounds of certain technology still bothered him.  Apparently, Pan felt the same way, for he nodded to Slightly.  Accordingly, the Lost Boy switched the entire machine off, and mercifully, the beeping ceased.  Similarly, he went to all the various technological accoutrements around the bed, carefully finding the appropriate button to turn them off without setting off alarms.    
    “You want all of them off?” Dodger asked.  He fidgeted a bit- both nervous and intrigued at once.    
    “First thing you need to know about being a Lost Boy,” Slightly whispered, “is that we always cover our tracks.  We don’t want grown-ups catching us- not until we’re far away.”    
    “And the second thing you should know,” Pan said smoothly, “is that we protect each other.  You said Ferdinand has been cruel to you in the past.   Now, we’ll pay him back.”   
    Dodger smiled faintly, “I’ve been waiting for this for a while.”  Nibs, who was watching the hallway to be sure they wouldn’t be spotted, swallowed uncomfortably.  Dodger didn’t realize what exactly “this” meant- or at least what it meant to Peter.   
    “Good.  Then you can be the one to do it,” Peter said.  He withdrew a dagger that he’d been concealing in his pouch.  It wasn’t his own- he would never let anyone touch that.  But he’d had a few extra lying around on the island, and he’d taken them with him when he journeyed to Storybrooke.  Pan had known they would show their usefulness at some point, and this was it.  With deliberate slowness, he presented the dagger, hilt-first to Dodger.    
    Dodger looked at him quizzically, “What is that?”   
    “It’s yours,” Peter said, “All Lost Boys receive a weapon.”   
    “Oh,” Dodger said, “Um, thank you.”  He reached for the dagger, but Peter abruptly pulled it back.    
    “They get to keep it when they make their first kill.”    
    It took Dodger a few seconds to follow Pan’s insinuation.  When he finally understood, his eyes widened:   
    “Kill?  You want me to...kill him?”   
    Peter shrugged, “You want to kill Ferdinand.  He’s made you miserable for years.  You said yourself you’ve been waiting for this.  Now you can end that misery.”  Dodger’s face grew tortured.  Slightly could see the mental war going on inside him:  Dodger was afraid, somewhat horrified he was actually considering this, and yet so terribly tempted by it.  He wanted to see his enemy destroyed, and to be the cause of that end?  To bring about the end of his torment himself?    Dodger shuddered for an instant, and Slightly recognized that too:  it was the first time the boy had ever felt blood lust.  Would he give in to it?    
    Pan waited, standing stock still.  He stared at Dodger.  Finally, the boy reached for the dagger with shaking fingers.  As Dodger wrapped his hands around the hilt, Pan smiled.  Dodger took the dagger, testing out the weight in his hand.  He stared at it, then turned his gaze onto Ferdinand.    
    “I don’t know,” Dodger whispered, “I want to- I don’t know how- and what if he wakes up?”    
    “It’s all right,” Peter’s voice was soothing, as if he was talking to a frightened animal, “Slightly will make sure he’s quiet.”  Pan waved the Lost Boy over.  Slightly grit his teeth, then stationed his hands just above Ferdinand’s mouth and nose.    
    “When you start, Slightly will put his hands over Ferdinand’s mouth, and he will never speak again,” Peter said, “Now, as for how to do it- it takes practice.  And everyone has their own...style, shall we say.  For example, Felix likes to club people to death.  Slightly uses bow and arrow to devastating effect.  And Nibs prefers a slingshot coated in poison, though he is deadly with a bow and error.  As for me, I like to use a dagger.  I find slitting throats to be most satisfying,” Peter looked at Dodger, his eyes alight with a bit of sadistic glee, “but you need to follow what feels comfortable.  Follow your instinct- let loose- and we’ll help you.”    
    Heart pounding, but inspired, and desperate to give in to the primal instinct, that desire to kill singing in his veins, Dodger flipped the dagger around.  Eventually, he placed both hands on the hilt, then moved so the blade hovered over Ferdinand’s throat.    
    “A bit lower,” Peter instructed, “Normally, your aim would be right, but you don’t want to cut off Slightly’s fingers.”  Dodger let out a nervous laugh.  Then, he sucked in a breath, and plunged the dagger down.  Ferdinand tried to scream, but Slightly’s hands clamped down over his mouth, silencing his cries of help.  Dodger, meanwhile, pulled the dagger back up, staring at the blood on it in wonderment.  Then, when he realized Ferdinand wasn’t dead- that in fact his eyes were wide with terror -he smiled.  With reckless abandon, he kept lifting the dagger and plunging it in Ferdinand’s body, sawing through veins and bone.  Blood covered everything, from the Slightly’s hands to Dodger’s arms, and in the background of it all, even Peter’s fingers.  As Ferdinand gasped and wheezed for breath, suffocating under Slightly’s grip and being sliced into bits by Dodger’s frenzied stabbing, Pan couldn’t help but lean next to his ear and whisper:   
    “I warned you.”   
    Those were the last words Ferdinand ever heard.  Even though the prince was well and clearly dead, Peter continued to let Dodger take out his rage on the corpse.  It was years of pent up aggression, and Peter knew what that was like.  Best to let Dodger release it now, on an enemy.  Best to let Dodger enjoy his first skill, with a sense of justice.  Best to let Dodger realize he was indebted to Pan, Slightly, and Nibs for giving him this opportunity, and protecting him from the consequences.    
    It was only when Dodger had sliced into the pillow that Pan grabbed Dodger, stilling the boy’s rage.  He was panting, still lost in the high of blood lust.    
    “Dodger,” Peter said, “I would let you keep stabbing at him- you did well -but there’s nothing left to stab.  You sliced his head clean off.”   
    At the words, Nibs repressed a shudder.  He was glad he was watching the hallway and hadn’t been watching the murder up front and close, as Slightly had.  He was also, even if he hated to admit it himself, a little envious of Dodger.  It had been a while since Pan had complimented him on a good kill.   He missed battle.  What did that say about him?  That he stood by while a gruesome murder occurred, and was jealous he hadn’t participated?  At the same time, Nibs knew he still had a conscience, for despite his emotions, he missed fighting enemies, not a boy lying defenseless in a hospital bed.    
    Dodger apparently had no such qualms.   
     

* * *

* * *

 


	21. Disarm you with a smile, and leave you like they left me here...

Wendy and Tink sat on their living room couch, watching the news.  Sidney Glass gravely shuffled some papers before him, announcing that Prince Ferdinand Corté of the Golden Kingdom had died in the evening.  A statement released by the former royal family of that kingdom expressed their deep sorrow, as well as a desire to be left “to grieve alone during this difficult time.”  A picture of King Midas Corté- Ferdinand’s father, who had been known in Storybrooke as Christopher Oro -appeared next to Sidney’s head as he read from the paper.  A few seconds later, a picture of Princess Abigail- Ferdinand’s older sister, Storybrooke alias Kathryn Nolan -appeared next to Sidney.    
    “More people hurt by Pan,” Tink said, “What a surprise.”  She shook her head, then took a sip from a glass of water on their coffee table.  Although she felt that whiskey would probably calm her nerves better, she couldn’t bring herself to touch the beverage since her encounter with Felix.  It was so strange- she swore she could remember pulling him into their kitchen, teaching him how to properly make toast.  She thought it took four tries, and a lot of laughter, but there had eventually been success.  Then, she remembered- or she thought she did -they’d sat on the couch.  Instinctively, she’d curled up into the warmth of his shoulder, and he’d put his arm around her, and she’d fallen asleep, with him whispering, in the faintest of breaths, “I miss you.”   
    But instead she’d woken up alone in her bed, with Felix long gone.  When the fairy had asked Wendy about the events of that afternoon, Wendy had merely shrugged and said that she’d found Tink asleep on the couch, and taken her up upstairs.    
    Oblivious to Tink’s inner confusion, Wendy said, “I can’t believe Ferdinand’s dead.”  That statement brought the fairy back to the present, and she rolled her eyes:    
    “Of course you can, Wendy.  Stop thinking like Gwen-”  
    “I’m not!” Wendy replied, immediately defensive, “I just-” she bit her lip, then sighed, “He didn’t deserve to die.”  She clasped her hands in her lap.  Deep down, she couldn’t help but feel as though Ferdinand’s death was her fault.  If she’d ignored his advances, if she’d agreed with Tink’s assertion that she had already made plans for the dance, if she’d not been so petty and set on punishing Peter for his taunts, perhaps Ferdinand would still be alive, instead of yet another death on her hands.  Not by her hands, but on her hands.  The first had been Del, with many more in between, and the latest addition was Ferdinand.  Tears filled her eyes.  When would it all stop?  Frustrated, she wiped at her eyes, though Tinkerbell didn’t notice.  Instead, the fairy sighed, and murmured:   
    “No one ever does deserve to die.  But when has that ever mattered to him?”   
    Neither girl spoke after that.  There was no need to identify who “him” was.

* * *

  
   
    Mary Margaret, David, Emma, Regina, Hook, and Neal stood in Mary Margaret’s apartment, all in deep discussion (Henry had been sent to an upstairs bedroom with strict orders to watch cartoons, though the adults all realized he would most likely listen in.  However, they felt him eavesdropping was far better than leaving him unattended).    
    “Ferdinand’s _dead_?” Mary Margaret gasped.  She stopped, halfway between pouring tea and coffee for her assembled guests.  Emma had called an emergency meeting before Mary Margaret left for school.  She’d rarely seen such a gruesome scene in her entire career.  Normally, she’d immediately launch a hunt for the killer, but it was clear who had orchestrated the prince’s death.  Sighing, she told her story:    
    “Dr. Whale found him at 5 AM in the hospital.  He was...beheaded,” Emma added grimly, “I called Kathryn to identify the body.”  She met her father’s eyes, and he looked away guiltily.  Although he had never wanted to marry Kathryn- Princess Abigail -he did sympathize with his former fiancée.  He knew what it was like to lose a close relative, but he couldn’t imagine having to see someone you loved in pieces.    
    “The contract’s still valid,” Regina muttered.  She had examined the parchment earlier in her new apartment at Emma’s request.  The blood had shimmered brightly, retaining its wetness, indicating that it hadn’t been broken.  Then she announced decisively:   
    “Pan didn’t do it.”   
    “One of the Lost Boys must have,” Neal said immediately.  It was the obvious workaround the stipulations established in the contract.  While he had no doubt Pan had planned the death, someone else had carried it out.  As always, he twisted the rules to his benefit.    
    “Neal-” Emma started, but he interrupted her:    
    “Emma, I know you want to protect Henry, but I do too!  I’m his father, even though I didn’t know about it until recently,” Neal swallowed, running a hand through his hair, “Anyway, you have to start talk-,” he cut himself off, “listening to other people about this.  Like me.  I lived in Neverland-”  
    “I know,” Emma said, “but we all went there-” She didn’t like relying on other people, and the last person she felt comfortable relying on was Neal.  Despite her lingering feelings for him- feelings she desperately wanted to squash -she continually reminded herself that Neal had abandoned her.  He’d framed her.  She shouldn’t- she didn’t -trust Neal, let alone with Henry’s safety.  Although, even she had to admit it wasn’t Neal’s fault that he hadn’t known about his son’s existence.  She had no idea what kind of father he would have been.    
    “It’s not the same, Swan,” Hook interjected, laying a hand on her arm, “Baelfire and I spent years there.  We know Pan far better than you.  You need to start listening.  To both of us.”  He cast a look at Baelfire- who continually reminded everyone he wanted to be known as Neal.  Nevertheless, the pirate couldn’t stop seeing the lonely boy he’d rescued behind Neal’s suspicious glare.  Neal clearly still carried some resentment towards him, but all Hook could see were Milah’s features embedded in Neal’s face.  His heart twisted at the thought of his old lover, but he quickly returned his attention to the new.  Emma needed him now, and Hook was working to prove to her that while he was a dashing rapscallion, he was her dashing rapscallion, and would do whatever she asked of him.  In this case, that included saving Henry, and Hook knew the best way to do that was to supply Emma with Neal’s and his considerable experience with the wretched boy known as Peter Pan.   
    Reluctantly, Emma nodded, “Okay.  Just...we have to save Henry.”   
    “That’s what we’re going to do, Swan,” Hook reassured her, “so let’s start now.  What we’ve been doing so far is playing by the rules-”  
    “-but we can’t do that anymore,” Neal finished, “Peter Pan is hands down the nastiest person I’ve ever met.  He’s also one of the most intelligent.  He’s not cheating, but he’s working around the rules.  We need to do the same.”  He stared at Emma, deathly serious, and she sighed.    
    “Aye,” Hook agreed, “Now, you already told us that we can’t imprison the Lost Boys, including Pan.”  
    “We can’t confine any of them?” David raised his eyebrows.  Mary Margaret hadn’t had an opportunity to fill him in on the specifics of yesterday’s fight, and this information evidently shocked him.   
    “If only we could,” the pirate said darkly, “but Pan would never make it that easy.”  Nothing was easy with Pan.  If something was easy...it was a trap.  It was one of the first lessons he’d learned in Neverland.    
    David shook his head, “What’s another clause?” Apparently, this contract had quite a few loopholes for Pan to slip through.  He wanted to see if there were any loopholes they could utilize, or if the situation was as hopeless as it seemed.   
    Regina listed, “‘Storybrooke belongs to me and Emma during the day; at night it belongs to Pan, no kidnapping Henry-’” She sounded somewhat bored, though in reality, she was simply frustrated.      
    “Kidnapping?” Neal asked.  He seemed almost excited by this information, and his eyes were bright.      
    “Yeah,” Emma confirmed, slightly perturbed by his reaction, “No one can kidnap Henry.”   
    “That’s it!” Neal said excitedly, “Henry can’t be kidnapped if he _chooses_ to go somewhere!”   
    “What are you saying?” Regina demanded.  She was not about to let semantics decide the fate of her son.   
    Hook bit his lip, “If I’m understanding Baelfire, he’s suggesting that we take Henry out of Pan’s reach.”  He drummed the fingers of his good hand on the counter.    
    “But we can’t do that!” Mary Margaret protested, “Our magic only works in Storybrooke.  Taking him into the outside world could put him at Pan’s mercy- we don’t even know where his Shadow is!” she sputtered.  They all knew the Shadow- a magical entity -could operate in the Land Without Magic independent of Pan, for it was how Wendy Darling had been brought to Neverland in the first place.  Removing Henry from Storybrooke, and the magical protections only Storybrooke could provide, might ensure the Shadow could somehow bring Henry to Pan.         
    Neal swallowed, “That’s the catch.  We need to take Henry somewhere else where there’s magic- somewhere that hopefully, Pan can’t follow.  And somewhere Pan doesn’t rule.”   
    “There’s nowhere else here without magic,” Regina said, “It’s called ‘The Land Without Magic’ for a reason!”   She scoffed at the man’s stupidity.    
    An utterly stunned Emma breathed, “You don’t want to just take him out of Storybrooke, do you?”  At Neal’s silence, she finished, “You want to take him to another world.” 

* * *

  
    Wendy sighed, grateful for the peace and quiet in the Storybrooke library.  She had been seeking out a place to do homework where she wouldn’t be bothered- especially after the truly heinous day at school.  People had whispered about Peter and Ferdinand’s fight, and they said it had been over her, and fingers were pointed her way, wondering if she was to blame for his death.   
    It didn’t help that they were right.  Still, Wendy did her best to keep an appropriate facade up throughout the day.  She didn’t burst into tears, which was all she felt like doing, but she didn’t smile, which she knew was inappropriate.  She held everything back, ignoring the rumors and condemnations, which this time had both of her names:  Gwen and Wendy.  When the final bell rung, she’d practically run out of the school, desperate to find somewhere away from the words about her damned past and equally bloody present- and away from the figure who featured in them both.  Peter had shown he had zero qualms showing up in her bedroom, and as he went to school with her, staying after classes would do nothing (he would know where she was).  Further, while she liked Granny’s, it wasn’t exactly an environment that was conducive to studying- especially with all the students so obviously talking about her.   So she’d fled to the library and found a location hidden among the stacks, a table in between two massive shelves nestled in the very back of the building.  It was cozy, and perfect in one way:  Peter, despite his love for stories, would never come here, for he hated the book that had bastardized his own life.   
    “Hello.”   
    Wendy looked up from her math homework to see Mrs. Gold smiling at her.  She wore a yellow sweater over a white blouse and brown pleated skirt.  A yellow ribbon tied back her brown hair, which curled down her shoulders in gentle waves.    
    “Mrs. Gold!” Wendy started to get up, fearing she was about to be reproached by the librarian, but the woman shook her head:   
    “Belle, please.  Do you mind if I sit with you?” She smiled warmly at the girl.     
    Surprised, Wendy gestured to the seat across from her.   Belle walked to the opposite side of the table, pulled out a chair, and gracefully took a seat.  She stared at the girl for a long moment, then folded her hands across the table and announced:    
    “I’ve been waiting to meet you, Wendy.”   
    The girl flinched.  She knew that Belle was an avid reader, and she probably had heard the story told of Wendy in this world.  Still, Wendy hadn’t wanted to deal with the lies the book told.  She just wanted to do her homework.  Accordingly, and hoping desperately to avoid any more questions about the veracity of the book, she simply replied:   
    “I see.”   
    Immediately, Belle asked, “Are you all right?”  Her eyes were wide with concern.    
    “What?” Wendy blinked at her.    
    “Are you all right?” Belle repeated.  At Wendy’s confused look, she continued:   
    “I know people have been asking you a lot of questions, but I don’t think anyone’s asked that one yet.”  She smiled again, and this one was a sad smile.    
    Wendy thought, long and hard.  It was true.  No one had asked after her. Bae had, when they first found her on Neverland.  And her brothers, when they first saw her.  But not afterwards.  It was almost as if they assumed, once she was in Storybrooke, once she had finished her visits with Dr. Hopper, that she had to be fine.  Even after the dreadful events of yesterday, and Ferdinand’s death- which, her mind repeated over and over again, was her fault -no one asked her if she was all right.    
    “No, no one has asked me,” Wendy admitted.  She considered, and then after a while said, “I’m not sure.  I don’t even know what ‘okay’ is.  I’m breathing.  I’m not bleeding.  I suppose you could say I’m surviving,” Wendy noted, “But then again, I’ve always survived.”     Belle stared at her, but she didn’t seem to think strangely of Wendy.  She was just considering her.    
    “What do you mean?” she finally asked.    
    “Once you’ve lived so long,” Wendy bit her lip, “The lines between good and evil tend to blur.  I’m over a hundred, and sometimes I consider options that the little girl I was would have loathed.  And it’s saved my life, but every time it does, I wonder, if that’s me...” she trailed off, “and Peter is roughly a thousand years old, what limits does he have?” It was a dark thought, and part of it _killed_ her, that even her innermost thoughts were entwined with Peter.  So much of her was wound up in the boy, and in her heart, she wondered if she would ever truly gain herself back- or if she wanted to.  She hated that part most of all.     
    Belle smiled, “So you’re older than me.”   
    “Yes, I suppose so,” Wendy stated. That wasn’t the response she had been expecting- she’d thought Belle would probe more and ask about Peter.  Instead, the woman was solely focused on her, and her alone- and interestingly, who she _really_ was behind her formerly frozen self. It was strange, to have someone finally acknowledge her age.  Among Peter and the Lost Boys, of course, it didn’t particularly matter- she was young, relatively, amongst them, who were all older than her.  But in Storybrooke, everyone relegated her to the position of teenager.  And she wasn’t.  She wasn’t an old woman, she wasn’t an adult, but she certainly wasn’t a child.   
    It was kind of refreshing.    
    “Well, I’m not going to pretend I know more than you,” Belle said, “but in my experience, loving someone who walks a moral gray line doesn’t mean they’re evil.”  A small ding went off, and she murmured a polite excuse-me.  As she turned around the corner of the stacks, Wendy heard her shuffling what sounded like china.   When Belle returned a few moments later, she bore a tray laden with a teapot and two teacups.    
    Sheepishly, she admitted, “I do love tea.  I keep a tea kettle in the library.  I thought you might like some.”  Carefully, she poured tea for herself and Wendy.    
    Still unsure what to make of this entire conversation, Wendy asserted, “I don’t love Peter-”     
    “I’m not saying you do,” Belle noted, taking a sip of tea, “I’m talking about Rumple and me.  He’s evil, by the standards of everyone in this town, but a lot of what he’s done has been to protect his son.  It was only after he lost Baelfire that he started to walk firmly on the side of evil.”  She pushed a teacup towards Wendy, who accepted it with some trepidation.  
    The girl took a sip as well, then said, “Bae and I were very good friends.  He was like another brother to me, for the brief time he was with my family.  He warned me once that magic destroyed his family and not to trust it, but he never mentioned his father.”   
    Belle said softly, “They have a very complicated relationship.  What people fail to understand about Rumple is that he would do _anything_ to get his son back, no matter what it took.  He had good intentions, if dark methods, and behind all of his actions, there was always that spark of good.  There still is,” she sipped her tea again, “Bae, for his part, has a hard time trusting his father- but what he doesn’t understand is that he once served as his father’s moral compass.  Without that compass, Rumple was lost.”  
    Despite herself, Wendy couldn’t help but compare Belle’s words about Rumple and Bae to herself and Peter:   
   _He had good intentions, if dark methods..._  
    Pan had been willing to do anything to save Neverland, and in his own words to her, his drive had been to save those who lived on it and depended on him.  It was an unselfish pursuit, but the fact he was willing to murder so easily was not exactly what some would consider “good.”    
   _What he doesn’t understand is that he once served as his father’s moral compass.  Without that compass, Rumple was lost._   
     _Was I that for Peter? His moral compass?_ Wendy wondered, _I couldn’t stop him from everything.  But I told him to spare Tootles’ life, that very first day I arrived, and he did.  He would listen to me, sometimes, the first time I went to Neverland.  But when I came back- it was like he was a different person- it was like who he was was lost._    
    She shook her head.  That was ridiculous.  Pan made his own decisions, and as he frequently reminded everyone, he almost always kept his own counsel.  Occasionally, he’d sought his Shadow’s his advice, and once in a very great while he asked Felix.  But his only moral compass was his own black heart, and no one could control the wayward arrow but him.    
    “Peter considers it his duty to save those from truly horrible situations,” Wendy said at last, feeling that she somehow should share something about Peter, even if Belle hadn’t asked, “That was how it started, at least...I think that’s how it started.  Not everyone went to Neverland, of course, but sometimes he’d teach boys how to fight back.  I think, in a way, that he still holds true to that.”  
    “So Neverland is a safe haven,” Belle hazarded, and Wendy nodded.    
    “It was, but when I left the first time,” she swallowed, looking away from Belle, “It started to die, and even when I came back nothing changed.  The island was doomed, and Peter wanted to save it.  He was willing to do anything, and we went to Wonderland, and the Queen of Diamonds told him he had to get the Heart of the Truest Believer-”  
    “Wait, _Wonderland_?” Belle queried, “Peter went to Wonderland?  And the Queen of Diamonds?” For the first time, she seemed to be drawn more into the mystique of the true story of Peter Pan and Wendy then the person sitting before her.  Her eyes were bright with intrigue.    
    Wendy nodded vaguely, unable to stop herself from telling someone- anyone -the truth.  She needed to relieve herself of that burden, of carrying that weight on her own, and so she explained:   
     “Peter can travel across realms and dimensions.  I went with him, once, and there were other queens in Wonderland before Cora.  The Queen of Diamonds was the most deadly and she told Peter he had to get the Heart of the Truest Believer or the island would die,” the girl revealed.  She suspected no one knew the truth of how Peter had selected Henry as his target.   It had been a mystery to them, but then again, no one had truly cared.  They’d simply been more concerned with saving him from Pan’s clutches than the particulars of how Pan had chosen Henry in the first place.   
    “Then Pan’s quest was never about him being immortal.”  
    “No.  Neverland’s magic; if you live there you’re young and will live forever, unless you suffer some kind of mortal wound.  Peter gave part of that magic to slow down time so that Neverland’s time would match this world’s,” at Belle’s confused look, Wendy added, “All of the dimensions run on relatively different times to one another.  Neverland goes incredibly fast.  To slow it, artificially, to match this world, required a great sacrifice on his part, and that was his immortality.  He thought it would be temporary, because the queen said once he had the Heart, Neverland would be restored and his lifespan would return.  But Belle, none of this would have happened if not for me.”  
    “Wendy, what are you talking about?” the woman inquired.  She started, as if remembering that Wendy was a person and not just a fairy-tale- and that person had tears in her eyes.  She reached across the table and took one of Wendy’s hands in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze.     
    “Neverland started to die because of me.  I asked Peter to come home with me to London,  and he refused.  He mocked me for having feelings for him, and he sent me away.  He broke my heart,” Wendy’s eyes bubbled up with tears as she started to cry, “and Neverland is a world of imagination; it needs one of whatever steps foot on its shores to remain stable.  I was a girl from the Land Without Magic.  A girl from the Land Without Magic is now required, always, to be on Neverland-”  
    “If that’s all it needed,” Belle inquired, “why didn’t Peter take another girl?  Why did it have to be you?” It seemed a simpler solution than specifically seeking out Wendy herself, who knew about Peter’s trickery and the demons lurking behind his charms.    
    “I came back to save Bae,” Wendy said, “I suppose it was easier.  And he is fond of revenge.” A few tears slid down her cheeks.   
    Belle paused, “Is it really so impossible for him to care for you, Wendy?” Unwittingly, she echoed Tinkerbell’s earlier assertion that Pan did care for Wendy.  Nevertheless, the girl knew they both were wrong.    
    “Yes,” Wendy said bitterly, “He made that very clear.  Peter Pan has no feelings for me...not like that.  There was a time I thought differently.  There was even a moment, a brief moment after I went back the second time, that I thought-” she trailed off, “it doesn’t matter.”  
    “Of course it does,” Belle said, voice filled with sympathy, “Being heartbroken is hard enough, but being heartbroken for a century...that’s torture.”   
    “You know,” Wendy said softly, “I almost didn’t betray Peter.  I almost stood by and let him kill Henry.  I guess my moral compass is screwed up too.”  
    “But you didn’t,” Belle pointed out, “You did the right thing, in the end.”  She squeezed Wendy’s hand again.    
     _Did I?_ Wendy wondered, _Did I do the right thing?  Should I have let Pan die?_  
    That thought haunted her long after she left the library. 

* * *

_Peter was five when it first happened._   
_Earlier in the day, Peter, his mother, and his father had attended a luncheon hosted by the Duke of Sussex in honor of his son Edward’s sixth birthday.  Most of the adults had been socializing, sipping on wine and tea as they walked about the porch.  The children had been allowed to wander in the great backyard, playing all manner of games.  But then Edward suggested he show them his new pony.  The others watched, wide-eyed, as he proudly paraded before them on the chestnut creature, guiding it in elegant circles.  The daughter of the marquess of Hertford, little Lady Jane, then asked how he’d learned to ride so well.  Edward had replied that he’d had an old pony, but he’d replaced it with his new one.  Just then, Peter asked what had become of the old pony, and Edward shrugged, saying he would probably have his father sell it._   
_“I don’t have any use for her now,” Edward said pompously, “She’s old.  I’ve outgrown her.”_   
_“But you learned to ride on her!” Peter protested, “You’re just going to sell her?”_   
_“I raised her since she was a baby,” Edward replied, “but it doesn’t matter.  I’ve outgrown her, and I don’t need her anymore.”_   
_For whatever reason, this statement infuriated Peter.  So Peter bet Edward that he could race him on Edward’s old pony, and beat him.  Edward had taken him up on the challenge, perhaps annoyed that an earl’s son had dared to question him.  Spitefully, he’d even added that if Peter won, he could keep the pony._   
_Edward plainly hadn’t expected Peter to win._   
_Still, when they’d brought out the silver pony, already neatly saddled for him, Peter felt as if he could see her sadness at being replaced.  And he decided, immediately, that he would win.  Confidently, he sat in the saddle, ignoring the smirking Lord Edward, who was mocking him and his old pony- which he’d apparently named Starlight.  Peter gently stroked behind her ear, and leaned down to whisper:_   
_“I believe in you, Starlight.  We’re going to win this, and I’m going to take you home, and we’re never going to have to deal with stupid Edward again.”  Starlight proceeded to turn her head, almost as if she was looking back at Peter to ascertain the truth of his promise.  Her great black eyes met his green, and then she turned back to the task at hand.   Peter gently directed her to the makeshift race track that a few servants had set up on the lawn at Edward’s imperious command.  Edward himself, caused a great stir by having his pony- who he’d named Soldier (which Peter thought was rather ridiculous, considering a pony could hardly be used in warfare) -gallop to the starting line.  The various adults at the gathering at last noticed the little competition starting up, and began to watch with a sort of amused interest._   
_“Are you ready to lose, Ponsoby?” Edward taunted Peter._   
_Peter immediately answered, “No.”_   
_Edward laughed, a few of the other children laughing with him, “Why not?”_   
_“Because,” Peter replied, “I know **you’ll** lose.” _   
_At that, Edward stopped laughing.   He scowled, and nodded his head at a butler who had been roped into being their referee.   The servant sighed, bored at being involved in a silly children’s spat, but obligingly counted down:_   
_“3, 2, 1-”_   
_Neither Edward nor Peter waited for the butler to finish.  Both eagerly spurred the ponies on.  Edward spent the majority of his time hurling insults at Peter and Starlight, sitting straight in his saddle.  Peter ignored him, instead leaning down to continue whispering in Starlight’s ear that he believed in her, that they would win, that they were in the right, and so they could not lose-_   
_As if Starlight could understand him, she increased her speed to a full gallop.  Peter wondered, idly, why Edward thought Starlight was so old.  She was going faster than any pony Peter had ridden previously, and she seemed like a sweet-tempered- though thoroughly determined -animal.  Edward was an imbecile, Peter decided, for wanting to get rid of her.  He hadn’t outgrown Starlight- he’d gotten bored of her.  What a horrible thing to say, that he’d outgrown her._   
_“You can do it, girl,” Peter promised her, “I know you can.  Keep going!” He leaned down even farther, keeping his body close to the pony as his riding instructor had taught him.  He knew that would allow them to go faster than Edward and Soldier, and didn’t even dare look around to note the pair’s location.  Edward’s taunts, he’d noticed, had decreased.  Instead, the boy was shouting angrily, and it sounded like Soldier was whinnying in protest.  Peter heard the drumming of hooves behind him, Edward’s furious exclamations getting closer._   
_“Come on, Starlight,” Peter urged his own mount, “Let’s show them how to fly!”  Starlight somehow managed to go even faster, and seemed to cross the finish line- marked by a large oak tree -moments after his final request.  Peter couldn’t help but crow in delight, especially when he finally turned to see a red-faced Edward, kicking Soldier in a fit of pique._   
_“She never did that for me!” he spat, glaring at Starlight._   
_Eyeing Edward distastefully, Peter simply stroked Starlight’s head, “Maybe you didn’t treat her right.”  Softly, he dismounted, both thrilled at his win and annoyed with Edward’s callous hand and attitude._   
_“Well,” a man’s booming voice interrupted their tiff, “I must say, that was quite the show.”  The two boys turned to face a tall, grinning man with neat black hair, accompanied by Peter’s father.  The Duke of Sussex smiled broadly at Peter:_   
_“What an excellent display of sportsmanship!”_   
_“Thank you, sir,” Peter replied respectfully.  He didn’t care for Edward, but the duke had been nothing but nice to him the entire afternoon.  Edward deserved his contempt, but the duke did not._   
_“You’re welcome,” the duke answered.  With a grin, he told Peter’s father, “Ponsoby, you’ve got quite the talented son!”_   
_Lord Ponsoby’s face was inscrutable as he acknowledged, “That I do.”_   
_The rest of the party had gone on uninterrupted, most of the adults having discussed the impromptu race at least a little.  The women gave various compliments to a blushing Lady Ponsoby, who demurred that all their sons were precocious.  The duke couldn’t stop raving about Peter, though he did take a moment to smile at his own son and tell Edward he wold win next time.  Lord Ponsoby, for his part, accepted the duke’s comments without much reaction._   
_Peter’s father had stayed that way for the remainder of the party, and said nothing else until after they’d returned to their home (with Starlight in tow, and brought to her new stall in the family stables).  Peter was just going to sneak into the kitchen to grab extra carrots to feed her when he heard his father summon him:_   
_“Peter, please join me in the library.”_   
_Puzzled, but acquiescent, Peter walked to the library.  His father rarely talked to him, never mind without anyone else present.  Yet the library was deserted, the lights dim, and the only sound coming from a crackling fire._   
_“I’m here, Father,” Peter announced his presence.  His father didn’t face him.  Instead, he appeared very interested in something on one of the bookshelves._   
_“I wanted to talk about the race this afternoon.”_   
_Peter smiled.  Lord Ponsoby didn’t pay much attention to his son, other than the occasional sigh when the five-year-old ran about the mansion, a gaggle of servants chasing after him.  To have his approval- for Peter was sure that was what he was here for -meant so much to the boy._   
_“Yes, Father?” Peter said eagerly, hoping for a compliment as other children might hope for candy._   
_“It was very inappropriate.”_   
_Oh, Peter thought, crestfallen. Perhaps his father didn’t approve of his actions at all.  He supposed it made sense.  The Duke of Sussex outranked an earl, and it probably hadn’t been the most socially acceptable idea to challenge the duke’s son to a race and inform him that he would sorely lose._   
_“I’m sorry, Father,” the little boy replied, remorsefully._   
_“Are you?” Lord Ponsoby demanded.  He finally stared at his son, rage in his eyes, “Do you have any idea what you did?”_   
_“...I was mean?” Peter queried._   
_“You stole the attention away from Edward Kensington on his birthday!” Lord Ponsoby admonished him, “A day solely for him, where he wasn’t supposed to be outshone by anyone-”_   
_At these comments, Peter was perplexed.  Why did his father care so much about Edward Kensington? It was just a race.  Nothing had come of it.  Even Edward had gotten over it when they’d brought out his cake, the chocolate diluting his wrath.  If anyone had the right to be upset, it was Edward, not Peter’s father._   
_“-it’s the most terrible thing you can do, Peter,” Lord Ponsoby continued to rant, “Never, ever, do it again.  Being shoved aside, being second best and forgotten, it’s the most horrible feeling in the world-” Lord Ponsoby’s eyes were full of wrath, jealousy- and was that hurt?  Had something happened to him, too?  Peter couldn’t be sure- he’d never known his father was ever humiliated by someone._   
_“Should I get Mother?” Peter asked, a wary feeling prickling up his spine.   He didn’t know how to handle this.  He didn’t know what was wrong with his father, why his son winning a race had somehow broken him.  Other men would have been proud, but Lord Ponsoby was seething as if Peter had won against a race against him._   
_“No,” Lord Ponsoby said contemptuously, “There’s no need for her.  She doesn’t need me; she never did, she never wanted me.  I could never be him-” he paused, a strange look coming into his eyes, “I won’t let you be him.”  Then he grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him forward._   
_“Father, what are you-?” Peter cried out in pain as his father slapped him.  He stumbled backwards onto the carpet, but his father strode toward him and yanked him back to his feet.  His arm bone felt like it was going to be wrenched from its socket._   
_“You won’t be him,” Lord Ponsoby swore bitterly, picking up his walking stick._   
_Peter screamed as the walking stick hit his back._

* * *

  
     _Peter couldn’t tell whether it was minutes or hours later that Lord Ponsoby stopped.  All he knew was that eventually, his little body slid onto the floor, his head smacking against the carpet.  Spots flashed before his eyes, and dizzily, he saw his father’s shoes walk out of the room.  Similarly, he looked at the rug itself.  The beautiful pattern of twin doves in flight was destroyed now, their pristine white feathers stained red.  He reached forward with his fingers, running them over the doves.  The carpet was still wet, as if the birds themselves were bleeding._  
 _But it wasn’t them who was bleeding._  
 _That thought in his head, the boy struggled to sit up.  His vision was still blurry, and the flames in the fireplace hearth made strange, swirling shapes.  To him, they looked like shooting stars.  Stars or flames, it didn’t matter, though.  He gingerly reached his fingers over his shoulder.  He nearly screamed in pain again, snatching his fingers back.  They were stained with blood...his own blood.  Utterly sick, he collapsed to the rug again, fighting the urge to sob._  
 _Father beat me, Peter thought shakily, but why?  I don’t understand!  I don’t understand!  What did I do?_  
 _“You stole the attention away...he wasn’t supposed to be outshone by anyone...it’s the most terrible thing you can do, Peter...”_  
 _His father’s condemnations rang in his ears, and at that, Peter couldn’t help but cry, great sobs wracking his chest.  His father had hit him because he was good at something.  His father had reduced him to a trembling, crying, pathetic mess on the floor, all because he was enraged at Peter being the best at something.  Most parents would be proud, but Peter’s father had practically killed him for it._  
 _What does he want? the little boy wondered, For me to lose?  For me to be nothing?_  
 _For a moment, Peter squeezed his eyes shut, forcing down the tears.  Then he bit his lip, utterly determined:_  
 _“I won’t lose,” he swore to himself, “I’ll never let him break me.  I’ll be the best, no matter what!  No matter what...” he repeated, before mercifully passing out._

* * *

 

 Later that night, Wendy was again seated on her couch.  Tink had retreated to her room, finally conceding that she should at least attempt some homework.  Whether she actually would do it was questionable, but idly, Wendy couldn’t help but think Tink simply wanted to be alone with her own thoughts.  She knew the fairy suspected that Wendy hadn’t told her the truth about Felix’s presence in their living room the other day, and perhaps she was trying to sort through her hazy memories and discern what had actually happened.  Whatever Tinkerbell’s motives, she’d left Wendy alone on the couch.  She couldn’t stop replaying her conversation with Belle earlier in the day.  Words about broken moral compasses and Pan caring for her swirled in her head like a never-ending storm, and she was so absorbed in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear her front door open.   
    As if summoned by Wendy’s thoughts, Peter Pan stood in her entryway.  As always, he wore his outfit of leather and stitched leaves.  Unusually, however, his face lacked its haughty smirk.  There was no darkness in his gaze, and he simply surveyed her.  Wendy herself wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a loose purple blouse.  Her golden-brown hair was down around her shoulders, without the bow he was so used to seeing in it.  She hugged her knees to her chest, as if to protect herself from him, though they both knew it was a useless gesture.   Furthermore, he knew his Bird, and he could sense the hurt and hate radiating from her in waves.  She knew, then.  Even if no one had told her, she knew that he’d been the one to kill Ferdinand- more or less.  Peter hadn’t truly expected her not to deduce this- she was Wendy Darling, after all -though he had expected her to be less angry with him.  She should know, by now, that this was what he did.  Pan would not let anyone threaten him or his power, even if that anyone was an upstart prince, and he had learned long ago that death was the only way to permanently remove a threat.   
    Carefully, Peter shut the front door, then walked to the couch.  He stood straight in front of her, tall and utterly guiltless.     
    “I’m not going to apologize,” he said without preamble.   
    “You never do,” Wendy answered, “but you did murder him, Peter, didn’t you?” She looked him straight in the eyes, condemning blue meeting an inscrutable green.  There was a trace of disgust there as well, and inwardly, he wished more than anything for it to be gone. As such, Pan declared:     
    “I didn’t kill him.”  It was true, after all.  Dodger had beheaded the prince, and quite thoroughly too.  Peter had simply presided over the bloody affair.  He knew that he was arguing semantics, but he still stood by his decision.   
    “Fine,” Wendy acquiesced, “You didn’t do the deed.  But you ordered it.  Ferdinand wouldn’t be dead if you hadn’t commanded it.”  Her voice was soft, and almost flat in its tone.  She wasn’t asking him anymore.  She was simply accusing him.    
    For that, Peter had no response.        
    “He didn’t need to die, Peter,” the girl said.       
    Pan interrupted her, “Of course he did!  He defied me-” Truly, it had been a very foolish thing of Ferdinand to do, and Pan had warned him.  Ferdinand had decided to flout his warnings.  It was the prince’s own fault, really, that he was dead.  Everyone else knew better than to defy Peter.  Even the Savior herself had chosen not to fight Pan, but rather to bargain with him.  What did Ferdinand expect?   
    “You’re telling me,” Wendy said slowly, “that you felt threatened by _Ferdinand_?  That you, who considers yourself immortal and unbeatable, was afraid of a high schooler?”  
    At this, Peter bristled, “I’m not _afraid_ of anything!” Despite himself, he sounded almost petulant.  Trying to regain some measure of control in the situation, he added:   
    “Ferdinand was...interfering.  I have plans; you know I do,” Pan nodded to Wendy, “and he was getting far too involved for my liking,” he shrugged, “I did warn him, Wendy.”    
    “What plans, Peter?  What game are you playing this time?  It’s too much,” the girl closed her eyes, “Too many people are dead...” she trailed off, staring out the window for a long moment.  Then, she turned back to face him, anger in her voice:   
    “God, Peter, why are you doing this?  If nothing else, why can’t you leave _me_ alone?”  
    Peter was surprised by this question, “I would never leave you, Wendy.”  He had expected Wendy to denounce the murder; he’d been prepared for that.  He was completely taken aback by her query regarding her own fate.  Was she serious?      
    “You sent me away,” Wendy said bitterly, recalling the painful memory, “and all the island needs is a girl from the Land Without Magic.  Any girl.   It could be anyone.  Why can’t you just take someone else?” The last words were said selfishly, and what was left of her conscience berated her.  But, her heart pointed out, didn’t she deserve better?  Didn’t she deserve a chance at freedom, after a hundred years with him?  
    Peter’s eyes were intense, though his face was otherwise inscrutable as he murmured, “I don’t want anyone else.”  The green orbs were filled with an eerie light.    
    “Why not?” Wendy asked.    
    Peter shrugged again, “It’s wrong.”  It was such a revolting concept to him he couldn’t believe she’d even _suggested_ it.     
    “Wrong?” the girl repeated, incredulous.    
    “Yes,” Pan confirmed, “Neverland without Wendy Darling isn’t Neverland.”  
    At that, Wendy almost began to cry again.    
    “So it’s just the island, then.  Nothing else.  Nothing to do with you.”  Dejectedly, she raised a hand to her face, frantically wiping away a few stray tears.  She wouldn’t let him see her in pain, not again.  He knew, she was sure, but it didn’t matter.  She intended to retain some semblance of dignity.    
    “Of course it has to do with me.  I’m part of Neverland, and Neverland is a part of me-” seeing his words weren’t having any effect, Peter asked, “Darling, what do you _want_ me to say?”  
    “Something you apparently never will,” Wendy replied, “and I don’t know why I continue to hope differently.”  She started to turn around and ascend the stairs to her bedroom (he’d follow her, probably, but at least she could cry in her bed).  Seconds later, Wendy heard a crash behind her, and felt a hand on her shoulder.  When she turned to investigate the noise, she abruptly found lips against hers.  Her entire body stiffened, but despite that, Peter’s arms encircled her, and he continued to kiss her, deeper.  It lasted almost a full minute, until Wendy’s brain finally managed to break through the hazy fog that had clouded her mind since Peter had kissed her.  She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, green eyes intense as ever, and her hands fisted in his shirt. She could see the unspoken question in his gaze, but she shook her head:   
    “It’s not enough.”  Then she pushed him away and went upstairs.   
    That night, she realized later, was the first night she’d slept alone since Peter had arrived, for her nightmares returned, this time of a boy with dancing eyes mocking her for loving him.

* * *

    _Many years passed in this way.  Peter, despite the copious beatings his father gave him, refused to be anything less than the best.  At his day school, he continuously won all sorts of awards, coming home with prize after prize, and the admiration of his fellow students.  Tinkerbell visited as often as she could, and she assured him that he continually also had the admiration of the fairy court.  Meanwhile, he’d explained to her the horrors of his situation:_  
 _“He hits me, Tink.  He just hates that I’m good at things.  I can’t understand why,” a nine year old Peter had shaken his head, “but I know I can’t stay like this.  I can’t live like this.  Do you think- do you think the queen would help me?”_  
 _Tinkerbell frowned, “She’s your fairy godmother, Peter.  It’s her job to help you.  If nothing else, you should definitely ask.  I have tonight off.  I’ll go with you, if you want!”  She would ever forget what Peter had done for her, and she felt it was her duty to help him now._  
 _Peter had nodded, determined to speak with Titania that very night.  Once darkness had descended, he slipped out of the kitchen and followed his familiar route to Kensington Gardens.  He stuck to the shadows, hiding his presence from the few who were walking the streets.  Although a nine year old wandering around at night was far less conspicuous than a toddler,    he still would stand out, especially in his fine clothes.  He kept up this charade until he reached the fountains, where (as usual), the fairies were celebrating a great ball._  
 _“Peter!” King Oberon exclaimed, “What a wonderful surprise!  Sit down, sit down!  Someone fetch dessert-” he waved a hand dismissively, and three servants disappeared to find sweets for the boy.   The fairies had long since developed a love for Peter, and in a way, he had assumed an almost princely status among them.  The king and queen had no children, and what would have been their parental affections had been redirected towards him.  Consequently, they adored his visits, and generally tried to spoil him when he made his appearances._  
 _Peter smiled, “Thank you, Your Majesty.  But I was hoping I could speak with Her Majesty?”  He quite liked Oberon, but it was Titania who was his fairy godmother.  This request had to go directly to her._  
 _“Of course,” Queen Titania emerged from a group of fairies who had been conversing on the fountain’s edge.  She carried a glass of what looked to be wine in her hand, but emitted a faint shimmer, “How are you, Peter?”_  
 _“Honestly, not well,” the boy said frankly.  Fairies gasped at this revelation.  They observed his achievements in school with great pride, but few followed him home (after all, he only went home at night, and unless he came to visit them, he slept- which was not very interesting to them). As such, they were entirely unaware of his grim home life._  
 _“But how is that possible?” Titania queried, “I’ve only heard excellent things about you in school.”  She frowned, her lips pursed._  
 _Peter answered, “Exactly.  I strive to be the best, and my father hates me for it.  Every time I do something good...he beats me ‘til I’m lying on the floor, bleeding everywhere,” he swallowed, “This has been happening for the past four years,” he considered her for a long moment, “But haven’t you seen it?  You’re my fairy godmother!” Even if the other fairies hadn’t been watching his home life- which he didn’t blame them for; he understood their reasons for not staking out the manor at night -Titania should have known.  She had to be watching.  It was in her job description, as a fairy godmother (or at least, that’s what he’d gleaned from Tinkerbell, when Tinkerbell told him about fairy godmother training)._  
 _The queen sighed, “I have, Peter-” She placed her glass down, then folding her hands primly before her._  
 _“Then you have to help me!” the cry burst out of Peter with a tremendous ferocity, “I can’t stand this!  If you’ve seen it, why **haven’t** you helped me?” he asked.  He was angry with her.  How could she have just stood by and let him **suffer** like this?  It was one thing if Titania had been ignorant, but she knew!  What excuse could she possibly give?  _  
 _“Peter,” the queen said, “I’ve seen your pain, but I’ve also seen your destiny.”  She gazed at him, willing him to understand that she had her reasons for what she did._  
 _“How?” the boy asked.  He knew enough to realize the fairy queen was referencing she had seen his future, but he wasn’t sure how such a thing was possible.  It could be possible, he supposed- anything was possible, if one only believed hard enough.  But he was far more interested in the particulars of how Titania had seen his future rather than accepting she’d managed what many would consider an impossible feat._  
 _“Fairies can travel between worlds,” Titania explained, “and I visited a world where its queen can see the future.  She showed me that you’re to become a great ruler one day.”  The fairy queen knew Peter very well, and recognized that the boy had nearly unstoppable ambition.  Thus, Titania was trying to tempt his penchant for lofty aspirations, and subtly distract him from how she’d left him in the clutches of his father._  
 _Peter ignored her description of his future, instead asking, “Wait, you can travel between worlds?  There are different worlds?  What do you mean?”  While Titania knew Peter, he was also learning about her.  He understood her tactics, but he also admired her skills.  She ruled not only through birthright, but through ability.  He wanted to have such incredible abilities as well.  After all, it was only through ability that one could gain true power- and true power led to true freedom._  
 _“Peter,” Titania paused, considering whether to answer his question, “I’m not sure how to explain it.  But you’ve heard legends of the Land of Faerie?” At last, she decided that this method of distraction worked as well as any other._  
 _Peter nodded.  He devoured the stories told in school, and the Land of Fearie featured in many._  
 _“It’s the world where we come from,” Titania said, “but it is a different world from this one.  There are other worlds as well.”_  
 _“How did you get here?” the boy queried.  Titania couldn’t help but smile.  As always, Peter zeroed in on the heart of the matter.  Where others might linger to examine the surface of an issue, he saw no reason for this._  
 _“Faerie is connected to all the worlds.  It is our homeland, and it is imbued with great magic.  We can travel through it, by special means,” the queen noted, “If you think of Faerie as a great road, then think of other worlds as houses on either side of the world.  You know we have many powers, and think of one of ours as having...” she strove for the best metaphor as Peter grew steadily more excited by her revelations, “a carriage.  Like you use a carriage on the road to go from house to house, we use our power to travel from Faerie to other worlds.”_  
 _“Can you take me with you?” the boy almost fell to his knees, “I can’t stay here anymore.  I want to go somewhere- anywhere -away from my father.  Please, please, take me with you!” He didn’t care much about which world it was, so long as it wasn’t a world shared by Lord Ponsoby.  He had no doubts in his capability to adapt to somewhere new, and he knew that the fairies believed in him as well._  
 _Nevertheless, Oberon interjected sadly, “I’m afraid we can’t, Peter.  It’s impossible for anyone other than fairies to travel between the realms.  Humans must stay in one.” He walked to stand by his wife, genuine remorse in his eyes._  
 _“But I thought...” Peter trailed off, considering all the tales he’d been told,“I’ve heard rumors.  I’ve heard stories of humans going to Faerie.  They never come back,” he conceded, “but they can go there!”_  
 _“That’s not true, Peter,” Titania stated, “Besides, you have to stay here.  Your destiny is to rule, and you should rule here, in the land of your birth.”  She gestured to the gardens around her._  
 _At this, Tinkerbell raised her eyebrows.  She opened her mouth to object, but at the king’s glare, swallowed her protest.  Instead, she clenched two fists by her side, struggling to hide her anger._  
 _“But I don’t want to be here!” Peter pleaded.  He might have been born in England, but he knew, he just **knew** , that he wasn’t meant to stay.  England held nothing for him.  _  
 _“This is where you belong,” Titania said firmly, “You are a noble here-”_  
 _“I’m not supposed to be king!” the boy pointed out, “I **can’t** be king!  I’m going to be an earl.  I just want to leave!”  He was incredibly frustrated, and despite himself, tears sprung to his eyes.  He felt so trapped, and here, the very being who was supposed to help him, was forcing him to stay!  _  
 _“One day, you will be a king,” Titania assured him, her voice kind, “and you will be a king of your own people.  As for your father,” she trailed off, casting a glance at her husband, who nodded in agreement, “we can influence him.  Perhaps we can ensure that you leave your home, until you can defend yourself.”  She was fervent in her belief, but she also felt incredibly at the raw pain in Peter’s face.  The queen knew enough not to fight fate, but perhaps she could work around it.  It was a lesson, she decided, she would have to teach Peter himself._  
 _“When?” Peter asked, his rage a bit more subdued.  He was somewhat embarrassed at revealing his desperation (especially when he’d been more or less refused)._  
 _“In four years time,” Titania promised, reaching up to clasp his hand, “we will make sure you go to school away from your father, and when you graduate, he will never be able to hurt you again.”  Peter might be a small boy now, but Titania had seen a young man in the vision the Queen of Diamonds had shown her.   He’d looked fierce and athletic- more than a match for a middle-aged Lord Ponsoby._  
 _“Do you promise?” Pan asked sullenly.  This wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for, but he supposed it would have to do.  At least now he said some sort of option._  
 _“I do,” Titania swore, “Four years, and they will pass quickly.  You will learn one day, how fast time passes, and how meaningless it really is,” she smiled, “but until then, you must be strong.”_

* * *

  The next day, Peter stalked around the foyer of what was formerly Regina’s mansion.  He was _seething_.  He had kissed Wendy Darling before, of course.  It had happened in Neverland.  But she had never shoved him away before- not like she had last night, anyway.   He was angry with her, but also with himself.  He hadn’t known what Wendy wanted him to say, and in a split-second of weakness, of desperation, of trying to make her _understand_ , he’d kissed her.  Peter Pan was many things, but he was never weak.  It was something he simply refused to be.  The fact that she had pushed him to that weakness- and worse, the fact that he actually displayed it -infuriated him.   
    Peter was also a bit annoyed that kissing Wendy had reminded him how much he _liked_ kissing her.  True, he was the Boy That Never Grew Up, but he was still a boy.   And there had always been something about Wendy that drew him to her.  When he’d built Neverland, he’d created the perfect girl along with it- Tiger Lily -and yet it was Wendy, the middle-class girl he’d never have met in London, who intrigued him.  It was Wendy his Shadow had brought, and Wendy his Shadow had showed him how to keep.    
    After Wendy had returned to Storybrooke- before Peter had revealed himself to her -he’d done his best to forget how much he liked kissing her.  He tried to occupy himself with his various plots and plans (all still important), and he’d almost forgotten.  Yet all it took was one kiss- just one -to remind him of her.  One kiss was all it took to distract him from his plan.    
    He couldn’t afford to be distracted.    
    “Pan.”   
    Peter turned to face Slightly.  His friend stood before him.  He eyed Peter with some trepidation, well-aware that he was uncharacteristically angry about something.  Slightly had never seen Peter so upset since he’d arrived in Storybrooke, and instinctively, he was cautious.  Yet he’d known Peter for so many years that he doubted Peter would lash out at him now- Slightly had proven himself the night of Ferdinand’s murder.  If nothing else, Peter rewarded loyalty.   
    “What is it, Slightly?” Pan demanded.  He didn’t mean to sound harsh with the Lost Boy, and Slightly barely flinched at his tone.  He knew he wasn’t the source of Peter’s ire, so he was less disturbed than he might have been under other circumstances.    
    “I’ve found something,” Slightly said, “Information you might find useful.”  He met Peter’s gaze with a steady look of his own, and at last Pan shrugged.  Pan doubted that Slightly could have discovered something that he himself did not yet know, but he was not one to discount his allies.    
    “What is it?”   
    Slightly jerked his head upwards, indicating Peter should follow him up the staircase.  Pan raised his eyebrows.  Apparently, Slightly didn’t entirely trust the newer Lost Boys yet, and wanted to remain cautious.  For their part, the new Boys were learning to fight in the lobby under Nibs’ watchful tutelage.  He kept his arms crossed, calling out corrections to the newer ones.  He’d paired them off, and they were presently learning basic self-defense- and using each other as practice dummies.  Although they were all ostensibly distracted- they were eager to learn how to protect themselves as well as prove their worth as the eternal warriors they soon hoped to be -they always looked out for Peter, especially Dodger.   He served as an idol for some of them, and they’d started to pay attention to every word he said.  Slightly didn’t want to risk that fevered devotion causing them to overhear this new information.   
    Accordingly, Pan and Slightly ascended the staircase.  Both affected a form of practiced nonchalance, but kept their heads close together, speaking in the faintest whispers:   
    “I was talking with Gretel before school-”  
    Peter pursed his lips, disapproving of Slightly’s contact with the girl, but Slightly ignored him.   
    “-and she mentioned having to buy a new cell phone later-”  
    “Slightly, what does a phone have to do with anything?” Pan interjected.  He normally wouldn’t be so curt with his friend, but he was still upset with what had happened with Wendy.    
    “She also let slip why,” Slightly stared intently at Pan, “Apparently, she was rather put off about you taking her phone the other day.  She seemed a bit worried about you knowing what it looked like.”  
    “So?”  
    “Since she’s been using it for secret communications.”   
    At this, Peter couldn’t help but laugh, “Slightly, you’re telling me you’re worried about a girl’s _phone_?  And making secret communications?  About what?  Gretel doesn’t seem like the most brilliant person.  What secrets could she possibly have to share that you’d find interesting?  Unless, of course, they were about you, _Montague_?”   
    Slightly’s eyes widened.  Peter hadn’t called him by his old name ever since he’d first touched Neverland’s shores.  He felt almost as if he’d been slapped, but then he realized Peter was- incredibly -teasing him.  It had been ages since Peter had done that.  Perhaps Pan really was so thrown by the concept of Gretel being a concern that he couldn’t help but treat the entire thing as a joke.    
    “Has she mentioned you as a Romeo?” Pan continued, this time his laugh growing a bit darker.  
    “No,” Slightly retorted, “but she _has_ mentioned Wendy.”   
    “That’s no surprise,” Peter said, “Considering they’re _friends.”_   His jovial tone had completely disappeared.  He didn’t like Gretel, not so much for who she was- he had dealt with plenty of irrelevant, silly girls before -but because of what she represented:  Wendy’s life as Gwen.  His disgust for Gretel was plain.   
    “As are we,” Slightly reminded Peter, “and I remembered _our_ friendship.”  
    “And what does that mean?” Peter inquired.   
    Knowing the question was yet another test, Slightly replied, “That our friendship comes first,” he sighed, still a bit guilty about his actions, “So when Gretel went to the bathroom, I may have swiped her phone from her purse.  I thought it rather strange she’d be so eager to get a new phone after how she chased after her old one. I found a rather interesting outgoing call to one Regina Mills.”   
    At this comment, Pan drawled, “Now why would Gretel be talking to the mayor?  I can’t imagine they have anything in common.”  
    “I don’t know what the outgoing call was for,” Slightly admitted, “but a different number texted back.  No name attached to the number, but it said: Y. Mir.  W2n.  HenT.”   
    “A code of some kind,” Peter murmured, “but easy enough to crack.  Y is yes, of course.  So Gretel asked her some type of question, of which Regina answered in the affirmative.  W must be Wendy-”  
    Slightly agreed, “It can’t mean anything else.  You’re right.  What does Gretel have in common with the mayor?  Nothing.  But who does Gretel interact with all the time?  Wendy.”  
    “2n is tonight,” Peter paused, rolling his eyes.  He’d hoped that the queen would learn something of the art of secrecy, but apparently not.    
    “Felix explained texting to you, then?” Slightly inquired.  Peter nodded, and Slightly said, “So Regina agreed to meet Wendy tonight.  Just- what is HenT?  And Mir?”  
    “Regina is the Evil Queen.  You know the story, Slightly- Wendy herself told us enough times:  the queen drew her power from mirrors.  Mir stands for a mirror of some sort.  Hen is Henry,” Pan mused, “That’s obvious.  But the T was capitalized.  Why?  If not a reference to the person, and there is no one else named Henry in this town-” Peter paused and laughed, “Was she really that foolish?  So _obvious_.”  
    Slightly looked at him quizzically, and Peter explained:   
    “I’ve explored this entire town over the course of many nights, and there is another Henry.  Henry Mills Sr., Regina’s dearly departed father, whom she sacrificed to bring about her curse.  ‘T’ isn’t an initial; it’s a location.  They’re going to meet at the tomb of Regina’s father.”   
    “But how could Wendy figure that out?” Slightly queried.   
    Pan shrugged, “Perhaps they discussed it in an additional phone call.  It doesn’t matter, but I do need to thank you, Slightly.  You were right.  This is very useful information,” he breathed, “Very useful indeed.”

* * *

  
    The moment Wendy heard Tinkerbell’s soft snores from the bedroom across the hall, she rose to her feet, cautiously sliding her foot on the wooden floor so that it didn’t creak.  She tiptoed to her closet and dressed quickly.  She didn’t dare turn a light on- Felix always stood guard outside the house, and while she was fairly certain that he occasionally dozed off in the night, she was equally certain that an abrupt change to the routine would rouse him.  After all, Felix had lived in the wilds of Neverland for hundreds of years.  He had been used to jumping to his feet at the faintest hint of danger, the simplest sense of something not being as it should, and  thus something as miniscule even the glow of a bedroom light (at two in the morning on a school night), would wake him.  And Wendy could not allow that to happen.  No one could know where she was going, not even Tinkerbell.    
    Sighing, Wendy buttoned up the jacket she’d surreptitiously borrowed from Gretel earlier that day, then reached into the pocket.  She withdrew a miniature mirror that had been hidden there by the girl, and it was this mirror that would be her tool to communicate with Regina from now on.    
    Honestly, Wendy was surprised the ruse had worked.  She’d known, deep down, that despite their assertions to help, Grace and Gretel could not be used to as liaisons between her and the former Evil Queen forever.  Pan would find out, as he always did, especially as the girls were so untested.  Thus she’d asked Gretel to pass a message to Regina explaining just that, and the mayor had promised she would conjure a foolproof alternative.  The magic mirror, Gretel had whispered to her, would allow her to discreetly contact the mayor, and vice versa.  It was small, so she could pass it off as a compact, and somewhat Victorian-looking, so it appeared as if it were her taste.  None of the boys would notice her carrying it.  Nevertheless, they might notice if she was given a new gift, and so the girls had agreed that Gretel would be the first to receive the mirror.  Wendy would conveniently “forget” her jacket that day, and Gretel (who always kept a spare in her locker- heaven forbid she stain her normal jacket, somehow) would offer Wendy her current one to borrow for the evening, the mirror safely stowed away in the pocket.  Although the plan seemed feasible, Wendy hadn’t been able to help but wonder if Pan would somehow figure out their plan.  Yet he hadn’t.  If anything, he’d looked moderately put out that he couldn’t give her his jacket (for he didn’t have one), or that he couldn’t imagine one for her.  It upset him, she reasoned, that someone could have some modicum of control over her environment.  For a hundred years, it had only been him.    
    Wendy shook her head.  It didn’t matter _how_ Peter hadn’t noticed, simply that he _hadn’t_ noticed at all.  Steeling herself, she held the mirror before her, and whispered:   
    “Mirror, mirror, in my hand, take me to she who built this land.”   
    A brief fog ghosted over the glass, then drifted out towards her.  Wendy forced herself not to scream as it enveloped her, rapidly obscuring her surroundings.  There was a soft whoosh, and the next place Wendy found herself was in front of a massive tomb.  The tomb was about the size of a cottage, with two stone columns flanking the entrance.  Myriad other headstones stood in front of it.  Despite herself, the girl shivered.  Although Gretel had warned her about this part of the plan, it didn’t make the situation any less creepy.        
    Cautiously, Wendy walked up the two steps to the tomb and raised her hand to knock.  Before she could, the door flew open.   
    “Finally!” Regina snapped, dragging her in by the wrist, “What took you so long?  My son has to be in school tomorrow!”  With a wave of the mayor’s hand, the door to the tomb slammed closed, and she guided the girl into the interior.      
    “It’s okay, Mom,” Henry said, suppressing a yawn, “I don’t mind taking a day off.  And Wendy has school too.”   
    “You are not taking a day off,” Regina replied, “Your education is important, regardless of the psychopath currently taking up residence in my town, and who I am spending most of my days trying to figure out how to get rid of him.  But ‘til then...” she trailed off.  The vitriol in her faded, and nervously, she slid out a small box from a recess in the wall.    
    “You’re sure, Darling?” the former Evil Queen asked, “You’re sure this will work?”   
    Wendy bit her lip, “I can’t promise you it will.  But I think it’s your best chance.”   
    “Very well.  Henry, are you sure about this?”  Regina looked at her son, concern filling her eyes.   
    Henry nodded, “Yes.  Mom, I don’t know what else to do.  And this way...this way, won’t you win?  Wasn’t the end of the game supposed to be me giving him my heart?  Now, even if I wanted to, I can’t.”   
    Regina bit her own lip, “I hope it means we win.  Henry, this may hurt.”  Then she plunged her hand into the boy’s chest and pulled out his heart.  It was still a bright, pure, red.  Wendy caught Henry as he collapsed, but he recovered quickly.   
    “Henry, are you okay?” Wendy asked.  He nodded his assent, but did lean against the wall for further support, breathing heavily.  Regina opened the box she’d removed from the wall- it was small and silver, with a beautifully engraved ‘H’ over the clasp -and gently placed her son’s heart in it.  Then she reinserted the box into the wall, hiding Henry’s heart in the hundreds of others she’d taken.   A moment later, she drew her fingers on the wall, selecting another box.  This one was black and purple, with thorns running along the edges.  Nevertheless, Regina seemed immune to the thorns.  At a wave of her hand, they twisted backwards, and the box popped open.  Gritting her teeth, Regina forced her hand into her chest, then yanked out her heart.  Wendy couldn’t help but notice that while Regina’s heart was blacker than Henry’s, Pan’s heart had been considerably darker.   Moaning, Regina had just enough strength to place her heart in its box before she too slumped to the ground.  Hurriedly, Wendy closed the box and slid it back into the wall.  Then she dropped to Regina’s side.    
    “Are you- are you okay?”   
    Regina grimaced, “You’d think it gets easier...but it doesn’t.”    
    Wendy was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say.  At last, she settled on a simple phrase:   
    “I wouldn’t know.”   
    The mayor laughed darkly, “I doubt you ever will.”  Still chuckling a bit to herself, she forced herself to her feet, then rubbed her hands together as if to remove dust.  There was none on her leather gloves, but perhaps it was Regina’s way of cleansing herself (at least mentally) from the horror of what she had just done.    
    Finally, Wendy asked the question she’d been wondering since Gretel had first told her the queen had wanted to meet:   
    “Why did you need me here tonight?  I mean, I know I told you Henry’s idea...but you could have done this yourself, unless...” she trailed off, her eyes widening, “You can’t mean to take my heart?”   
    At this, Regina raised an eyebrow, “No, though it’s an interesting idea.  You _are_ perfectly close to Pan-”  
    “Mom!” Henry interjected, “ _No_! We talked about this.  No more taking people’s hearts.”  He stared at his mother until she sighed and rolled her eyes.   Then he turned his attention to Wendy.   
    “Actually, the reason you’re here is to protect us.  We’re not telling anyone about this, not even my mom, Emma,” he added hastily, ensuring that Wendy had the proper identity of both his parents, “but we need someone to know, in case we start acting weird.  Whether you like him or not, Wendy, Pan’s never hurt you-”  
     _He’s hurt me plenty_ , Wendy almost said aloud, _You just don’t know about it._ Despite that thought, she made herself listen to Henry.  It wasn’t his fault Pan had hurt her.   
    “-so I don’t think he ever will.  You’re the perfect person to keep the secret.  If he somehow discovers and takes our hearts, and if we start acting weird, you’ll know what happened.  You’ll be able to tell everyone and they can help us.”   
    “It’s a good plan, Henry,” the girl noted, “but Peter’s not stupid.  If he somehow managed to get your hearts, I doubt he’d try to have you act any differently.  He wouldn’t want anyone to know he controlled you, and I would have no idea either, honestly.”   
    “But you will,” Henry explained, “See, that’s the other part of the plan, and I hope you won’t mind it, and it’s kind of embarrassing-”  
    Regina stepped in, “I can’t watch Henry all the time, much as I want to.  And my son’s right in that Pan seems to have no desire to hurt you.  Therefore, putting you near Henry seems like a prudent idea, and if you could be with him after school until I come home, then he could give you a signal that we’re still both all right.”   
    Wendy paused, trying to gauge if she was truly understanding what they were asking, “You want me to _babysit_ Henry?”   
    “It’s not babysitting!” Henry insisted, blushing slightly, “It’s spying.  Operation Raptor, remember? If you come over, I can find some way to tell you that we’re okay every afternoon, and you’ll know Pan doesn’t have control over us,” he babbled on, fully engrossed in his plan, “Maybe in a game?  A board game!” he decided, “None of the Lost Boys will know about board games, not even Pan!  They like real games, don’t they?”   
    “I- I suppose,” Wendy considered his words, “Board games would bore them.  They wouldn’t pay much attention to it, even Felix, and he follows me everywhere.  You know that, right?  I could babysit Henry, but Felix wouldn’t leave.”   
    “He’d be bored though,” Henry repeated, “He’d stop paying attention.  He’d go outside or something.”   
    Despite herself, Wendy had to admit that Henry’s suggestion- if insane -was possible.  It could work.    
    The girl sighed, “Okay.  I’ll do it.”    
    “Good!” Henry smiled brightly at her.    
    “Henry,” Regina said, “Go get your jacket and wait at the top of the stairs.  I want a word with Miss Darling.  Alone.”   Henry looked worried for a moment, and the mayor reassured him:   
    “I promise I’m not going to take her heart.”  Satisfied by her words, Henry shrugged on his coat and made his way up the stairs of the tomb.  There was a creak as he opened the door, and once Regina was certain he was out of their earshot, her entire expression changed.    
    She narrowed her eyes at Wendy, and declared, “I won’t take your heart now, but if you betray us, if you give my son to Pan, I promise you, Miss Darling:  I will take your brothers’ hearts and crush them before your eyes.  Then, and only then, will I take yours.”   
    Wendy gasped.   Just for a moment, she could see why the townspeople so feared Regina. The woman might be trying to become a heroine, but the villain that was the Evil Queen lurked inside her, the darkness festering away at her like some dread disease.   
    “I- I-,” she struggled to find words, but could say nothing.  Regina, meanwhile, smiled, then escorted the girl- whose face was dead white -up the stairs of the tomb.  She opened the door, releasing her grip on Wendy.  Henry was oblivious to his mother’s sinister promise, and grinned at both of them.      
    “I suggest you leave quickly,” the mayor said conversationally, all traces of malice gone, “This tomb has been enchanted to keep anyone but the owner out.  And if you try to go back in without my permission...those curses are particularly nasty.”   
    “ _Mom_!” Henry reproached her, “I thought you weren’t going to curse anyone anymore!”   
    “I’m not,” Regina agreed, “I put those spells in place when I first built Storybrooke.  I’m not going to change what I already did.  Besides,” she put an arm around Henry’s shoulders, “They’re only to keep intruders out.  Think of it like a locked door.”   
    “It’s more like a trap,” Wendy said, unable to keep herself quiet.  She had been shocked by Regina’s threat, but now that she was aware the former Evil Queen needed Wendy more than Wendy needed her, she wasn’t going to kowtow to her.    
    Regina’s gaze grew angry for a moment, but when she spoke, she merely shrugged, “It is a trap, Miss Darling.  I hope you have go home and get a good night’s rest.  I can’t have you tired on your first day of work.”  
    “Night, Wendy!” Henry waved at her as he and Regina disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.   
    “Goodnight, Henry,” Wendy managed to say, clutching Gretel’s jacket around her against the cold night.   
    She didn’t notice the pair of eyes watching her from the forest.   
      
  



	22. Love is for fools who fall behind, and I'm somewhere in between- I never really know a killer from a savior.

The next afternoon, Wendy found herself in Regina's new apartment (with Felix, her ever present Shadow, looking decidedly unhappy to be there). Despite the fact that the apartment had been hastily acquired by the mayor, her belongings were already in place, and it seemed as though no one else _could_ live there save her. Stainless steel appliances decorated the kitchen, while the living room was filled with furniture made of black wood. White cushions atop the wooden couch frame made the area look slightly more comfortable, but overall, the place looked like somewhere a high-class executive would live rather than a mother and son (or so Wendy thought, from the limited television she watched).

Nevertheless, Henry seemed oblivious to how sterile the apartment seemed. He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment.

Henry called, "Wendy, do you want a drink?" She couldn't help but notice he ignored Felix's presence entirely. Felix narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, but said nothing.

"I'm okay," she answered, then amended, "Maybe some water."

Obligingly, Henry reappeared in the living room, handing Wendy a glass of water. She accepted it gratefully, waiting for him to mention their code. He didn't, and simply eyed her as she took a dainty sip.

"So, Henry…" Wendy trailed off, "Shall we play a game?" It had only been a day since Regina had removed his heart and stowed it away in her vault. Could it be possible for Pan to have taken Henry's heart already?

_Yes_ , a faint voice inside her head whispered.

_Don't be ridiculous_! Wendy mentally berated herself, shaking her head. She couldn't seem to stop thinking of Peter. However, she reminded herself, while Peter was powerful, and unlike anyone she'd ever met, he wasn't a _ghost_. He wasn't a monster from the darkness who could creep about, overhearing everything, omniscient, knowing everything-

_He knew everything in Neverland-_

_But we're not in Neverland,_ Wendy thought firmly, _Not anymore. He can't know everything, and I have to stop thinking of him like that._

Henry unwittingly drew her back to reality, "Yes! And I know _exactly_ which one!" He winked at her, then dashed in the depths of the apartment, presumably to his room. A few seconds later he returned, bearing something called "Monopoly: Disney Edition." Grinning widely, he set up the board, offering Wendy the chance to pick the figurine whom would be her token- or, he explained, the piece she'd move around the board. Somewhat wary, Wendy selected a silver figurine of two dogs.

"Lady and the Tramp," Henry observed.

Wendy looked at him quizzically, and he laughed, "You'll have to watch the movie sometime." The girl shrugged, but accepted his advice.

Meanwhile, Henry finally acknowledged the Lost Boy, "What about you, Felix? Wanna play? I've got the perfect token for you!" he lifted a figurine of a boy standing with his hands on his hips, legs spread wide, and a cocky smile on his face, "Know who it is?"

"No," Felix said curtly.

"It's Peter Pan!"

At that, Felix blanched, "Pan? _That_ is supposed to be _Pan?_ "

"Mmhm," Henry confirmed, "That's why I thought you could play as him."

Felix replied, incredulous, "Play? This game is ridiculous. To think that _that_ is Pan!" he sneered, "I can't even _watch_!" With that, the Lost Boy strode towards the entryway, muttering angrily to himself. He opened the front door, then slammed it shut. Wendy knew he wouldn't leave- he'd just lean against the front door, still fuming over how this game had depicted Peter.

Triumphantly, Henry turned to her, "Operation Raptor at work!"

Wendy blinked in surprise, "You _planned_ that?"

"Yeah," the boy replied, "I had to get him out of here so he wouldn't overhear our code. Felix may not be interested in board games, but had he sat and watched us every day he would have picked up on something. Now he'll never even come in."

Wendy couldn't help but be impressed, "You're right, Henry. Absolutely right." She smiled, "So what's our code?"

"One of the other tokens is Tinkerbell," Henry pointed out a gold token, which depicted a fairy in midflight (though, Wendy noted, it looked _nothing_ like the real Tinkerbell), "I'll tell you midway through the game that Tinkerbell is flying over the castle."

"That's very…specific."

"Well, I don't want you to mix it up with something else in the game," the boy shrugged, "And because it's so uncommon, if Pan does get my heart, it's not something he'd ever know to say, even if he did know we played the game every day."

"Very true," Wendy conceded.

"So do you know how to play?" Henry asked.

Wendy admitted, blushing slightly, "Not at all."

"Okay!" the boy said brightly, "I'll teach you."

They spent the next few hours playing Monopoly. Henry won most of the games, but just before she left for the day, Wendy did manage to take one victory from him. Instead of being put out at his loss, Henry seemed happy Wendy had finally gotten the hang of the game. He waved goodbye to her.

Regina merely muttered a curt, "Thank you, Miss Darling," before shutting the door. Sighing, Wendy shouldered her backpack and began to walk home. She didn't look behind her, but knew Felix followed her (as usual).

Just then, her cell phone buzzed. She picked it up, frowning at the text message:

GRACE: R u coming to the dance?

WENDY: I don't think that's a good idea.

GRACE: U can't stay in that house 4ever. It's not good for u.

WENDY: It's not good for everyone else when I come out.

GRACE: I know u feel bad about Ferdinand-

At that, tears filled Wendy's eyes. Bad? _Bad?_ Wendy felt terrible about what happened to Ferdinand. She felt it was her fault- God, it was her fault, it was, it was –and how could she risk that happening to someone else?

First Del, then Hook's first crew, then Rufio-

Wendy's hand flew to her mouth. She did her best to forget about the deaths on her conscience, and of them all, she'd long felt Rufio's was the worst. Perhaps it was because there was never any real explanation for it. She'd long since realized that the mermaids had drowned Del on Peter's orders (for no one could be close to Wendy but Peter), and the Lost Boys had killed the pirates (for no one could endanger Wendy), and Ferdinand- poor Ferdinand –had suffered the same sentence as Del for the same reason. But Rufio? Rufio's death had been far more complex.

* * *

_"Wendy-" Rufio's voice came through the dark Neverland night, softer than the softest wind._

_"Rufio, you shouldn't be here," Wendy whispered frantically from her treehouse window. Peter had left, but only for a moment. It seemed the Indians had decided to launch a surprise attack on the Lost Boys encampment, and Peter, of course, had flown to defend them. Rufio too should have been with them._

_"I know," he answered, "and neither should you." He stared up at her from the ground, then scaled the tree._

_"What are you saying?"_

_"What we're all thinking," Rufio whispered. He leaned across her windowsill, "Peter is…he's not himself. He hasn't been, not for a long while-"_

_"Rufio-"_

_"-and it's not safe. Boys are disappearing, and it's not just because of the mermaids. Anyone who says anything against Peter disappears."_

_"Which is why you need to stop what you're saying," Wendy commanded him quietly, "Right now."_

_Rufio grimaced, "I can't. It's too late for that. The Boys are divided. They all know Peter, and his quest for the Heart of the Truest Believer has changed everything. Some of them think the best thing to do is be more loyal to him than ever. They think that loyalty will save them. But others- others are coming to me. They want me to either kill him-"_

_Wendy gasped._

_"-or help them escape," Rufio paused, "Despite everything, Peter's my friend. And I won't kill him. But I do think we need to leave Neverland. All of us. Including you."_

_"That's impossible, Rufio. No one can leave Neverland, unless Pan says so-"_

_"Then I'll make him say so!"_

_"Rufio," Wendy pleaded, "No. You're my friend. I don't want to see you get hurt. You need to stop this. Now."_

_"But Wendy-" Rufio began, though the girl held up a hand and cut him off, "No, Rufio. I mean it. Not another word. The other Boys are right. Loyalty to Pan…that's what will keep them safe. Once he has the Heart, everything will go back to normal. Everything will be all right again," the words sounded hollow to Wendy's ears, but even so, she swallowed and continued, "and that's what you need to tell the boys who come to you. Tell them exactly that- be loyal to Peter, remember he was the one that brought them here, and when he gets the Heart, everything will be like it was before."_

_"Wendy," Rufio said, his voice sad, "It will never be like it was before."_

_"'Never say never in Neverland,'" Wendy whispered back, citing an adage she'd often heard Peter say, "And Rufio…"_

_The Lost Boy paused mid-climb back to the forest, "Yes, Wendy?"_

_"Never speak of this again. Promise me."_

_"I promise," Rufio said._

* * *

_Wendy never found out whether he did say anything to the other Lost Boys or not, though Rufio never mentioned the subject to her again. But perhaps the trees of Neverland had heard their furtive whispers that night, and perhaps they'd carried the words to Peter's ears._

_Or perhaps things had been less supernatural, and Peter had simply noticed that Rufio was becoming more popular than he. The Lost Boys began to seek him out more, asking him questions, inquiring what game to play, whether they would fight the Indians. Wendy saw all this, and she did her best to make Rufio less of a target by speaking less and less to the Lost Boy she'd once considered her closest friend. He respected her wishes, though every once in a while she'd notice him glance at her across the fire. His eyes were sad._

_Perhaps Peter noticed that too._

_All she did know was that one day Hook, his pirates, and the Lost Boys were in a great battle again, this time aboard the_ Jolly Roger. _Wendy detested battle, but a part of her still considered herself to be the Boys' mother (at least some of them, anyway), and so she had swum after them, hauling herself aboard with a small pack of healing supplies on her back._

_The very first thing she saw was burned into her mind forever._

_Hook and Rufio were fighting. Fiercely, they locked their swords together, grunting with the effort. They must have been shouting insults at each other- Wendy could see their lips moving –but amid the other screaming of the battle, Wendy couldn't hear them. She looked around for Peter- why was Rufio fighting Hook? Hook had always been Peter's target –and spotted him dueling Starkey, a pirate who had currently pushed Curly against a wall and was seconds away from wounding him (it was only Peter's intervention that had stayed Starkey's hand). Rufio must have jumped in to take Pan's place fighting the captain._

_While Wendy understood the logic, something about it still didn't seem quite right._

_Nevertheless, she stood frozen like a statue, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloodshed going on around her. Over and over again, her gaze was drawn to Hook and Rufio, who continued fighting each other for all they were worth. Their swords slid against one another, the screech of steel ringing through the air. Then, suddenly, there was a scuffle, Hook leaned in at an angle, and his sword seemed to disappear._

_Dizzily, Wendy wondered,_ How strange. Where could it have gone?

_Then Rufio's scream brought her out of her stupor. Her hands clapped to her mouth. His scream was like nothing she'd ever heard before._

_"Rufio!" Wendy cried, her pack falling to the ground, forgotten. The Lost Boy sputtered, coughing up blood. Hook withdrew his sword from the boy's chest, and the Lost Boy stumbled to the ground. Wendy caught him in her arms, tears welling up in her eyes._

_The entire battle stopped around them. Both pirates and Lost Boys alike were shocked- never before had a pirate given a Lost Boy what could only be a mortal wound. Even Hook himself appeared stunned. Boys'd been hurt before, sometimes gravely, but never had they been dealt a death blow. How could such a thing have happened?_

_How could a Lost Boy_ **die** _at the hands of a pirate?_

_"Rufio," tears flew freely from Wendy's eyes as she brushed hair out of his face. Black and red strands tangled freely with equally red blood. The blood, though, was darker. Thick, it flowed downwards, some of his hair bathed in it. It made her want to vomit, and she tried to move some of his hair out of the path of the blood. Rufio's eyes followed her movements, and unbelievably he seemed to smile. His smile quickly faded, though, as he realized that he, a Lost Boy, a boy whom Peter Pan had promised immortality, was dying. He was dying, and with his death, he had failed. He had failed at the one thing he had secretly promised himself he would do. If he was to die, though, he didn't want it to be secret anymore. So it was that he gasped out, chest heaving:_

_"Do you know what I wish? I wish...I could have saved you." Then he coughed once more, and his head fell to the side._

_"It's all right," Wendy whispered, not even sure who she was talking to, "It's all right. It's all right-" then she too slumped over, her body curled over his as she cradled him in her arms. Then she started to sob._

_There was an awful silence as the Lost Boys and the pirates took the scene in: one of their own dead, held by their distraught mother, her chest wracked with the very force of her tears. It seemed, for once, that even Peter had no words. But a few minutes afterwards, he turned his gaze towards Hook and said:_

_"You'll regret this, I swear. We'll settle this later. Felix."_

_Hook said nothing in reply. Gently, Felix bent towards Wendy and tried to pull Rufio's body from her grasp. The girl nearly snarled at him, furious:_

_"_ _**No. Don't you dare touch him.** _ _" Even then, a part of her knew that Peter had allowed this to happen. Peter had allowed it, which meant Felix had to know. Yet from the anger and distress in Felix's own eyes, it seemed he hadn't. This murder was one secret that Pan had kept from Felix, and wisely. For even though Felix had replaced Rufio, he still regarded him- as he did all the Lost Boys -as a brother. Still, Wendy couldn't bear to have someone associated with Peter touch him. It seemed so..._ **wrong.**

_"Wendy-lady," this time it was Slightly who knelt next to her, "You're not strong enough to carry him. That's all we want to do. We just want to carry him." Slowly, she raised her eyes to Slightly's. His were grief-stricken, and she realized the awful truth that he was right. She couldn't carry Rufio on her own. He was bigger than her, and she would drop his body, and oh God, he'd already been killed today. He didn't need to have his body fall in the dirt as well._

_So it was that she reluctantly released him, and Slightly and Felix slid their hands underneath Rufio's body. She watched as they carefully picked him up and Peter gave them pixie dust- for he still had enough to let the others fly at this point -and they slowly flew towards the shore. The rest of the Lost Boys silently followed suit, jumping into the air without any of their rambunctiousness. Last of all, Peter picked Wendy up and carried her, bloody nightgown and all, through the air back to Neverland as storm clouds formed above them._

* * *

Wendy wiped at the tears in her eyes. Rufio was gone, and now Ferdinand was gone. Was a dance worth risking someone else's life?

Still, she looked down to see the remainder of Grace's text:

GRACE: I know u feel bad about Ferdinand, but staying in that house isn't good for u. It's just 1 night. And u don't need a date. Gret and I will take u. ;)

Despite herself, Wendy couldn't help but laugh. It was a little hysterical laugh, bubbling up from inside her. Just then, Grace texted her again:

GRACE: Come on, Wendy. U want to go!

The girl paused, then sighed and typed back:

WENDY: Okay, fine. But you have to promise you won't upset Pan.

GRACE: We won't. I won't steal u. Plus, do u really think he would be threatened by me?

At that, Wendy bit her lip. Grace had a point.

WENDY: That's true. Just…be careful, okay?

GRACE: I promise. Make sure u get a costume 2night- Gret and I have to do French homework or we'd take u. See u tomorrow!

WENDY: See you tomorrow.

* * *

_Peter grit his teeth, and reminded himself of Titania's promise. Soon, he would leave. Thus he endured four years, scars marking up and down his back, staff studiously ignoring Lord Ponsoby's condemnations of his son, and finally, finally, he went to Eton, and as his fairy godmother had told him, it was blissfully free of his father- mostly. There were times on break where he was forced to return home, where Lord Ponsoby resumed punishing his son for success._

_Yet, if Lord Ponsoby expected the beatings to quell his son, he was sorely disappointed. Peter had decided the very day he'd first been beaten- just as he had decided earlier that day he would win -that he would never give in. He kept this promise in school, gaining numerous commendations for his efforts, and strove to be the best at anything he could- which was quite a lot. When he was home and others made compliments about it to his father, Lord Ponsoby responded by smiling in public and beating him senseless when they returned to the family manor. There were many times when Peter passed out from the pain, only to awaken hours later and find himself still bleeding in the library. Every so often, he could hear his mother cry outside the door when his father beat him, but she never did anything._

_She was utterly unlike Ian's mother. Ian, one of his two greatest friends from Eton, was the son of the earl of Kintore. Although Peter had never confided to either of his friends about what his father was doing- and the two were too polite to ever ask -Ian frequently asked Peter over to his house._

_Peter wished desperately for a mother that was anything like Ian's. She was everything his mother wasn't: warm, kind, loving, and simply proud of anything Ian did. Whenever Ian wrote home about something wonderful that had happened about school, his mother always sent a letter of warm congratulations and usually some extra pocket money. Whenever Ian wrote home about something going wrong at school, his mother's response was to immediately send up a tin of cookies and an encouraging letter. The other boys in their year made fun of him for it, but Ian just shrugged it off. Peter, meanwhile, was heartily jealous._

_Peter and Ian were fourteen years old, and seated at the dinner table in the Montague household. It was Christmas break, and grades had come back. Both Ian and Peter had scored top marks in all their courses, and Lady Montague had promptly ordered a celebratory dinner for the pair. Then Ian brightly shared the news that Peter was the youngest player to make the polo team in over twenty years, and Lady Montague had exclaimed that they must have a cake for him._

_Peter replied, "No, ma'am, thank you, but you've already done enough-" Peter had every desire to be the best, and truthfully, he was ecstatic about making the team. However, he was very fond of Ian, and while he didn't often rein in the accolades accorded to him (he never would, no matter how his father tried to make him), he didn't want to overshadow his friend at a dinner meant to honor both of them. Ian was like his brother, and he valued that friendship deeply._

_"Nonsense!" Lady Montague tittered, "We must celebrate!" She happily swanned out of the room, calling orders to servants in her bell-like voice._

_"Sorry, Ian," Peter said._

_"Nonsense!" Ian said cheerfully, his voice an excellent imitation of his mother's, "Really, Peter, she gets excited when I wake up every day. It's nice to have someone else around she can be excited about. Besides," he grinned, "You couldn't pay me to play polo. Cricket, though...that we may have to fight about come spring."_

_Peter grinned back._

* * *

Peter walked throughout Regina's- well, his –mansion. He had been brooding all afternoon- about Wendy, about the dance, about his entire plan. He knew he would win- of that he had no doubt. But he didn't want to do so with her angry at him. Peter didn't expect her to forgive him right away, or even to understand. But he thought she _would_.

Though perhaps, Pan mused, he would have to explain to her, and reveal far more than he would have liked. He wanted to trust Wendy, but after their last encounter with the Charmings in Neverland, he felt uncomfortable sharing some things with her. However, in this matter, it wasn't an issue of trust, but rather that he didn't like to remember his life before Neverland. When he was Peter Ponsoby- not Peter Pan.

"Pan."

He was interrupted from his melancholy by Slightly. The Lost Boy- in truth, perhaps the very first Lost Boy (though he shared that title with Nibs) –was leaning against the stairs. The brown leather he'd sported in Neverland had been replaced by dark blue jeans, a black button-down shirt, and a type of sneakers Felix had identified as Converses.

"Slightly," Peter nodded to him, "What do you need?" There were few that he would allow to interrupt him when he was alone, but Slightly was one of those few.

"I was just wondering…" Slightly trailed off, "Are we going?"

"To what?" Pan's eyebrows furrowed.

Slightly took a breath, "The dance." Peter stiffened, crossed his arms, and queried:

"And why would we go to that?"

"Isn't Wendy going?" Slightly inquired. Before Peter could cut him off, he continued, "Pan- Peter- I know. About you and her," he swallowed, "We all did."

"Your point?"

"You want her to come to Neverland," Slightly replied. It wasn't a question. He was trying to phrase it in such a way as to not incite his friend.

"I fail to see what that has to do with a dance," Pan said disdainfully.

"You can't force her to go," the Lost Boy pointed out, "You need to persuade her."

"I can do anything," Peter retorted.

"I know," Slightly affirmed, ever-aware that this was true, "but do you want her to hate you? Besides, that's not us. We don't treat women like that-"

"I already put her in a cage," Peter pointed out darkly, "How is this different?"

"You and I both know you did that to keep her safe from the Charmings, but Wendy didn't-"

"How do you know that, Slightly? You _betrayed_ me," Peter replied, "You claim to understand me now?" He was still very bitter about the first betrayal, though he knew that Slightly would never betray him again. He'd proved himself.

"I know _you_ ," Slightly answered, "and you know me. You know I miss my parents. I faltered by that temptation. I admit that, and I'm sorry. It was a mistake to betray you- one of my oldest and closest friends," he swallowed, "but I still _know_ you," the Lost Boy paused, then said again, "You were trying to protect her, Peter, and now you want her to come back with us."

Pan said nothing. He already felt terribly weak about the situation, and he couldn't help but wonder that if Slightly could see this, could _everyone_ see it? Did everyone know what he wanted with the Bird, what he'd had with her? Was it so very obvious? And if it was, how did he change that? He could push her away, of course. Mock her. He knew her, and he knew how to break her…

Though Slightly had a point. Breaking her would not accomplish his aims. Idly, Peter's mind drifted back to a fairy ball, one so long ago. He had danced with Wendy among the stars, and he had- she had, he meant, he meant _she_ had –liked it. Then he sighed in resignation, and Slightly grinned.

* * *

_Despite his success in the decidedly mortal room of school, Peter was always excited when the magical realm crossed his path. On breaks he often went to Kensington Gardens, but while at school he always looked forward to Tink's occasional visits._

_One night, the fairy alit at his window. Three small taps announced her arrival. Excitedly, Peter jumped out of his bed, racing towards her. Quickly, he pulled the window upward, allowing her to fly in. The fairy did so, her wings sending a soft swish of air by his cheek. Then she landed on his bedside table, her hands clasped under her chin._

_"Peter!" Tink squealed, "I'm so proud of you! I haven't been able to say much, but I've been listening to_ _**everything** _ _, and let me tell you, the fairy court goes to every polo game-"_

_"Really?" the boy asked, pleased to know the fairies were seeing his success._

_"Yes! It's become a huge social event. Titania goes to watch you play, and of course the court goes with Titania, and whenever you win they have a massive ball in your honor. She told me you made captain!"_

_"I did," Peter grinned cockily, "Are you really surprised, Tink?" He raised one eyebrow, and the fairy giggled:_

_"Of course not. Doesn't mean I can't be proud!" she winked at him, and he couldn't help but smile at her as he conceded:_

_"No, it doesn't." Still, her words gnawed at Peter. So many were proud of him, but for every achievement of his, he knew he could expect a beating when he next went home. He hated it, he hated his father, and he desperately wanted an out._

_"Tink," Peter queried, "Do you think Titania could help me? With my father? I know she said Eton would keep me away from him, but in a way, it's made it worse. Whenever I'm home, he hits me more, and," he grimaced, "he hits me harder. Do you think now...she might be willing to do more?"_

_At the question, Tink's smile faded. Peter had previously confided in her about how Lord Ponsoby beat his son. She'd done her best to check on him and try to stay the beatings, but Mab made it almost impossible for her to leave training. Nevertheless, on more than one occasion, it had been Tinkerbell herself who healed his wounds. Tinkerbell had spoken to the fairy queen about Lord Ponsoby's treatment of his son, but Queen Titania had been adamant that Peter continue to remain with his family. The queen repeated her original assertion that Peter had a great destiny; a privileged destiny as a ruler; and he needed to be in a position to obtain it. Apparently, that required staying in the household of his abusive- yet noble -father. Tinkerbell didn't understand it, but it wasn't her place to question Queen Titania._

_The fairy said carefully, "I don't know. It depends. I've talked to her before, Peter-"_

_The boy smiled, "You're a good friend, Tink."_

_Tinkerbell smiled back, "So are you. But don't thank me too much yet," she bit her lip, "Every time I talk to her, she keeps saying about how you're going to be a ruler."_

_Peter rolled his eyes, "I don't see why I have to be beaten to within an inch of my life to be a ruler!" His tone was sarcastic, but there was genuine pain and confusion behind it._

_The fairy sighed, "I don't either. But that's what Titania's fixated on: you ruling."_

_The boy frowned, "But she didn't say_ _**where** _ _I had to rule..."_

_"Peter..." Tink warned. She was hoping this conversation wasn't going where she thought it was. She didn't know if she could lie to Peter, let alone if her conscience would let her._

_Peter answered, "I saw you that night, Tink. When I first asked Oberon and Titania about traveling to another world, they said I couldn't go. You made a face, and Oberon glared at you."_

_Despite herself, Tink couldn't help but laugh, "Nothing gets by you, does it?" It seemed to be another characteristic of his. Had he been anyone else, it might have unnerved her, but she trusted Peter._

_"No," Peter replied, completely serious._

_"Look, Oberon and Titania weren't lying. Not completely," Tink amended, "It_ _**is** _ _forbidden for humans to travel to another world from Faerie. However, your human tales are correct: humans can go to Faerie. There just haven't been any in a while. Too many troublemakers." Tink teased, trying to lighten the mood. The boy granted her a small smile, but there wasn't any light in it:_

_"I wouldn't cause trouble. I have no desire to steal Oberon and Titania's throne. I've accepted my destiny: I want my own."_

_Not entirely surprised, the fairy inquired, "What are you thinking, Peter? I know that face."_

_"You confirmed what I suspected, which is that humans aren't confined to the world of their birth. If I'm to be a ruler," he mused, "why not be a ruler of my own world?"_

_Tink's eyes widened, "Peter, you can't just go to another world and take over it. They already have their own governments and customs. It wouldn't be right to conquer it."_

_"Of course not," Peter agreed amiably, "That's why I would create one."_

_"_ _**Create** _ _one?" the fairy gasped, "What are you talking about? You're not a god, Peter. That's impossible."_

_"Tink, I've seen many impossible things. I_ _**made** _ _myself see impossible things. I was three years old and I wished to see fairies and I_ _**did** _ _. I don't see why I can't make myself_ _**do** _ _impossible things."_

_"Peter, you know I love you, and you know I'll support you through anything, but don't you see this is madness? It can't work."_

_"It will work," Peter said easily, "I'll make it work."_

_Tink shook her head, "You're serious?"_

_"Very."_

_Tink sighed, running a hand through her hair, "Fine. But you're talking to Titania about this. Not me."_

_Peter nodded, "The next break."_

_Under his breath, he repeated, "It will work."_

_Tink shivered at his words. Nevertheless, he seemed ignorant of her reaction, and when break came, he approached Kensington Gardens with a determination that surprised even her._

_The night was cool, which was characteristic of early spring. Flowers had not yet begun to bloom, but the faintest of green stems could be seen popping through the ground. Nevertheless, the weather was still in a state of stasis, as if the very earth itself was frozen and waiting for something to happen._

_Peter thought it was appropriate._

_As he made his way to the fountain where the fairies kept the center of their court, the fairies flew up to greet him:_

_"Well met, Peter!"_

_"How are you?"_

_"We saw the match! You played wonderfully!"_

_Peter smiled and thanked them- he had an affection for them, overall –but it was Titania who he was looking for. Perhaps the queen knew that this time would come, because she met his gaze with a sort of weary resignation:_

_"Good evening, Peter."_

_"Good evening, Your Majesty," boldly, he said, "I'm sure you know why I'm here."_

_"I do. You are no longer content to wait until you leave Eton to get out of your father's house, it seems."_

_"I won't wait any longer, Your Majesty. I refuse. I'm exhausted about being beaten for doing well. I will be the best, wherever I go, but I won't let my father continue to punish me for it. Let me go to your world. Please, Your Majesty. I can handle many things, but I can't bear this anymore."_

_"Peter-" the queen started, but her words were cut off as Peter turned his back to her and the other fairies. He didn't bother to remove his shirt- there was no need. His shirt, which was once a simple white button down, was covered in red. The fabric was wrinkled up against his back, the liquid causing it to stick together. Red liquid dripped freely from the bottom of the shirt. It was only Tink's glamour that had caused him from being questioned by the police officers who roamed the streets._

_"I refuse," Peter said flatly, ignoring the fairies' horrified gasps, "to be beaten for being the best, and I request passage to your world."_

_At this, Titania immediately replied, "Peter, we have told you, we cannot let you go to Faerie. The prophecy says you are to be a ruler, and Oberon and I rule Faerie."_

_"I'm not asking to rule Faerie," Peter asserted, "just to travel there."_

_"I'm sorry, Peter. I won't fight fate. You cannot come to Faerie," Titania said definitively, wringing her hands slightly. It was the only indication of her nervousness, but Tinkerbell noticed it. Tink, for her part, did her best to hide her own nerves as Peter played his trump card:_

_"If I can't go to your world," Peter declared, "then let me make my own!"_

_"What?" the queen said incredulously._

_"Let me make my own," Peter grit his teeth, "Don't you see? This fits my destiny. I'll make my own world, and I will be its ruler! I'll be safe from my father, and I will satisfy that fate you see for me!"_

_"Peter," Titania said cautiously, "You can't just...create a world!" She looked to her husband for support, but Oberon was silent as he observed the exchange. The king was deep in thought. Tink wondered what he thought of Peter's decidedly outlandish proposition._

_"Why not?" Peter asked, "You tell me new worlds appear, new dimensions are created all the time. New pathways open in Faerie."_

_"Yes, but they are naturally made. You can't artificially make a world!" Titania said, though at this point, she sounded more as if she was trying to convince herself than him._

_"Yes, I can!" Peter asserted, "I can do it! You_ _**know** _ _I can! I'm not like the others! That's why you chose to be my fairy godmother in the first place! Even as a child, I wished for things, and they happened! Your Majesty, I wish for this, and as my fairy godmother, you're bound to help me! You are queen of all the fairies, and your power supersedes them all! If my wish is combined with your powers...I_ _**know** _ _I can make a new world! I know it!"_

_"Peter-" Titania protested, but Peter didn't let her finish._

_"I've abided by your rules for years!" he said, "I've done what you said! And still, nothing's changed! I can't do this anymore! I won't! Titania, I call on you to help me! Truly. Finally. Help me."_

_The queen sighed. Despite herself, she did feel guilty for leaving Peter in such a horrible situation over the years. But she had thought she was following destiny. His proposal was outlandish, but he was right: if he created his own world, he would be its ruler. She had no doubt he was right in something else- he was unlike any human she'd ever met. He very well could create a new world. He never doubted himself; his confidence was limitless. From the moment she'd met him, he had clearly had something no one else did. She glanced at Oberon, and gravely, the king nodded his assent._

_"Peter," she said, "If we do this...it's very dangerous."_

_"I'll do anything!" he promised._

_"As I told you, this world will be artificial. It will be sustained by magic, and it will be unlike any other world in existence. You will be tied to this world, forever, if you wish it into being. You will never die," Titania said gravely._

_"Immortality doesn't sound all that bad," Peter shrugged._

_"You will also gain the power to travel between realms, but you must always return to your new world."_

_"Fine. I've got no interest in staying here."_

_"Lastly...if we are to give you this, you must give us something else in exchange."_

_"Anything."_

_"It will be your duty to help others like yourself. You will travel from realm to realm, helping those in dire need. Help them to defend themselves, or bring them to your world with you. You will spend your entire existence doing these things, and if you do this, if you continue to help those who are lost, your world will be sustained. Can you do this, Peter?"_

_"Of course," he said, "I never fail."_

* * *

The night before the dance, Wendy was seated on the couch in her living room. Her math homework was strewn on the coffee table, but she hadn't looked at it for hours. She'd been lost in thought about who she should go as for the Halloween dance, or if she should go. On the one hand, Grace was right. It would be good for her to get out of the house. On the other, Wendy couldn't get Ferdinand's face out of her mind- she imagined he would have been terrified, when Peter had given the order to kill him, and Peter would have been positively gleeful-

Just then, a knock came at her door. Wary- Felix stood guard outside, and surely would have sent most people away at this hour –Wendy walked to the front door, peering through the peephole. When she saw who was waiting (bizarrely, for he never waited), she bit her lip, and swung it open.

Peter strode into her living room, "I have to talk to you." Wendy rolled her eyes, shutting the door behind him.

"What, Peter? What can you possibly want now?" Her tone was scathing. They hadn't spoken since he'd kissed her the other night.

He opened his mouth, but still smarting, she cut him off, "Tell me, Peter. What story can you come up with that will possibly explain everything you've done?" she sat down on a chair, "Go on, tell me."

Peter stared at her for a long while. Under his gaze, she felt her anger wither. He was acting utterly unlike himself. He was always confident and cocky, and he almost always had a response. He was obviously warring with himself, but he finally came to a decision to go through with his original intention. So it was that he admitted:

"My father hated me. Despised me, in fact. I was gifted at everything he wasn't. He might have been a powerful earl, but he was an ugly, bumbling, idiot-" Wendy's eyes widened. This was _not_ where she had expected him to go. Was he really telling her about his past? Was he truly explaining who Peter Ponsoby had been, before he was the magnificent, immortal Peter Pan?

"Peter," Wendy chided him softly, unable to stomach hearing him disparage his father (for oh, she so missed her own, and she couldn't imagine saying anything bad about him), but he shot her a glare:

"You wanted me to tell you a story," he retorted, "and you will listen." His eyes were alit with the eerie fire that sometimes came over him in his darker moods, and she knew better than to test him now. So it was that she simply pulled the blanket closer over her legs as she let him pace before her.

"People respected him for his money and his title, but the papers all talked about _me._ I received top marks at Eton- my teachers often said I was brighter than the Prince of Wales himself, though of course they could never tell the royals that. Captain of the polo and cricket teams. _I_ won the championship match against Harrow. _I was a legend at Eton,_ and there were trophies covered in my name.

"My father had nothing. We were so very different, me, the handsome, vivacious son, him the backwards and awkward father- many people began to think he wasn't my father at all. How, after all, could _he_ father someone as brilliant as _me_?"

Despite saying that Wendy shouldn't comment until he was finished, he looked at Wendy expectantly. She said nothing, merely digesting his words. Peter often liked to discuss his general prowess, his greatness over other boys, but something in this was different. It wasn't just the usual crowing of his ego.

"My father wondered the same thing," Peter continued. He turned away from her, instead looking into the fireplace. Firelight flickered against his skin, making him seem almost demonic as he added:

"Oh, he never would say it out loud. But it haunted him all the same- was I his son? My mother, you see, was supposed to marry his younger brother. But her family pushed for her to make the better match, and to marry him. Still, I think he was always terrified my mother had sought out my uncle for one night of passion, and the result of that betrayal was me. Still, he could never hurt her; she was a woman. So instead, he hurt me." He cast his gaze down to one of his hands, flexing his fingers absentmindedly.

"He beat me for years. It started when I was a child and it continued until I went to Neverland. He hit me with anything- his fists, his belt, a cane-"

"Peter-" Wendy interrupted again, this time with a shred of horror in her voice. He held up a hand to quiet her:

"My father tried to take his feelings of shame and inadequacy out on me. It didn't matter to him whether or not I was his son- if I wasn't, he had only a bastard as an heir, and if I was, I outshone him in every way."

"Well...were you-" Wendy asked timidly. Peter's eyes flicked to her, and she immediately quieted. Still, Peter knew his Bird, and so he satisfied her curiosity:

"Yes, I _was_ his son," Peter frowned, "My mother wouldn't dare commit adultery, despite her feelings for my uncle. I think that made it worse, because I was everything my father never could be. Still," at this, a hint of his familiar smirk appeared, "I wouldn't give in. I wouldn't give up. I _never_ would. Every time he hit me, I swore to myself I would be even _better._ I would be _greater._ I would be the best anyone had ever seen."

Wendy sat, unsure what to make of these revelations. Peter's obsession with being the best wasn't just born of cockiness. Rather, it was a deep-seated need to defy everything his father had tried to take from him. To Peter, every win, every victory, every success was a sort of emotional balm, payment for the horrors inflicted on him as a child. It wasn't simply a desire to be superior to everyone- it was a vow to be superior to his father as a person.

Though, Wendy supposed, Peter would hate if she spoke those words aloud- that despite his faults, she thought Peter a better man than his father.

"What of your mother?" she said at last. Peter had spent quite a bit of time extrapolating on his history with his father, but he hadn't said much of his mother.

"Surely she protected you," Wendy added. At Peter's stony silence, her heart began to pound, "Surely she did something."

For a long moment, Peter said nothing. Then he pulled off his shirt of leaves and showed her his back. It was crisscrossed with angry red scars, so many, in fact, that there was barely any unmarked skin left.

Despite herself, Wendy gasped. Slowly, she stood, then lifted trembling hands to the scars. Most of them were still raised, and he shivered under her touch.

"My mother," Peter spat, "stood by and let this happen to me. Over and over again. This is why I never wanted mothers and fathers in Neverland. This is why I never wanted to grow up- why no one could grow up in Neverland. I didn't want to turn into the monster that all adults were- that adults are."

"Why didn't you heal yourself when you got to the island?" Wendy asked. Abruptly, he jerked away from her, then replaced his shirt, sliding the scars out of view.

"I kept them as a reminder of what growing up does to you."

"You never told me," Wendy said softly.

Peter raised an eyebrow, "You never asked."

"I never saw them," Wendy said, "even when we-" she paused, blushing, "even when I should have."

"I kept the scars for myself, and myself alone," Peter said, "I didn't heal them, but I hid them from everyone, not just you."

"You should have said something," Wendy whispered.

"Why?" Peter inquired. He came closer to her, green eyes locking onto her own blue. "You just should have," Wendy replied at last.

"Would it have made a difference?" the boy asked, "You _hated_ me, Wendy. Well," he shrugged, "when you came back, you did. You told me so often-"

"I didn't hate you," Wendy protested, "I hated what you did. The horrible lengths you were willing to go to save Neverland, though now," she bit her lip, "Now, I suppose I understand it."

Peter gazed at her curiously, "Do you, Bird?"

"You made Neverland your kingdom," Wendy stated, "but it started as your refuge. That's what it always was, wasn't it? Your refuge. And then you made it a safe haven for boys like you."

"No boy is like me," Peter said automatically. Despite herself, Wendy cracked a smile:

"Yes, I suppose you're right. Let me rephrase: boys who had been wronged. You took them to Neverland to save them, and then, when the island began to die..." she sucked in a breath, "It wasn't about losing a place to rule. It was about losing safety."

Pan nodded, "The fairies helped me create Neverland. In doing so, they also made a deal with me that I had to help souls who suffered like me. I made a vow I would. I _will_ keep that vow, no matter the cost," he paused, "The sacrifice of one heart is worth the salvation of hundreds." At this declaration, he seemed to come out of his reverie, and he inquired, narrowing his eyes, "Don't you agree, Darling?"

Wendy didn't know what to say. She was so stunned by his revelations that she couldn't even begin to process what was occurring: Peter Pan was being _honest_ with her. He had never outright lied to her- excluding the day they'd made their agreement on Skull Rock -but he never had shared everything, either. Peter was a strange boy who seemed to constantly give and take with her. Every time she thought she had a grasp of his character, he did something to turn her assumptions on their head. He pretended to be so _inhuman,_ and sometimes he was, and she couldn't forgive the bloodlust that had corrupted him and made him inhuman.

But maybe he had been human- once upon a time.

* * *

The following evening was the night of the dance, and despite her better judgment, Wendy had allowed Grace and Gretel to convince her to go. It didn't matter if she didn't have a date anymore, they said. She shouldn't sit at home, cooped up in that big house at the edge of town. She spent most of her nights doing that. She should have fun, especially since Peter and the Savior had apparently come to an agreement to extend the curfew tonight.

So she'd let them come over and fuss over her. They'd sat and curled her hair, chattering about their own dates. Both girls were already dressed in the costumes- Alice in Wonderland and the Red Queen. Grace had smeared body glitter all over herself- she thought it would make her look sexier in the dark gym -while Gretel had gone for smoky eyes (which Tink had giggled at- Gretel had zero idea how to do makeup). Their talk was like that of flies, buzzing by Wendy's ears. She, meanwhile, sat on a stool in front of the floor length mirror that served as her vanity. She couldn't help but stare at herself. Her white nightgown- familiar garb for so many years -once again graced her skin. It wasn't pristine anymore (fleeing Neverland had discolored it a bit), but the lace pattern was still beautiful. It reminded her of home.

Peter's words had stuck in her head, and so for this one night, she would again be Wendy Darling, as Wendy Darling had been so long ago. Hopeful, sweet, innocent- full of bright imagination. Yet there were some discrepancies- her nightgown was a bit too short for her (she'd grown here), and her lips were too red, her cheeks too blushed to be those of a young girl. Her hair, albeit still a brunette so light it was almost a honey gold, was much longer, nearly halfway down her back.

Nevertheless, anyone would know her as Wendy Darling. And perhaps, Wendy thought, that was a good thing.

As they entered the darkened gym, Wendy looked around, taking it all in. Although the entire room was nearly pitch-black, it was also lit up in a frenzy of bright colored lights. Reds, blues, greens, and yellows- their source seemed to be little black balls that had been attached to the ceiling, controlled by the DJ who was selecting loud, songs with harsh beats she didn't recognize. A few adults patrolled the room. Emma, Hook, and awkwardly enough, Baelfire, though like her, he'd too selected a new name and wished to be known as Neal. He didn't seem particularly thrilled about the relationship that had sprung up between Emma and Hook in his absence, but Wendy knew Bae well-enough to realize he still felt horribly guilty for what he'd done to Emma, and if Hook made her happy...it might kill him inside (and she suspected it did, for she never saw him and his old lover in the same room), but he would stand aside. Belle stood, hands clasped before her in the corner. She was dressed all in bright sparkling gold as a fairy, and seemed entranced (if a little confused) by the proceedings. Her husband, Rumplestiltskin, stood next to her, looking decidedly less thrilled to be there. Nevertheless, he'd seemingly acquiesced to her wishes and sported a blue suit.

Most of the gym, though, was filled with students. Everyone was covered in masks and bright costumes, sequins sparkling in the rolling lights. Grace and Gretel spotted their dates and squealed. Grace made a beeline for Chris, who bizarrely, seemed to have chosen to be a zombie. Yet there was no mistaking his sharp teeth as he smiled at her. Gretel blushed upon greeting Jeff, who had dressed as a character Wendy recognized as Zorro.

"Typical," Tink huffed, rolling her eyes. She had chosen to go as a sexy pirate- one of the last outfits left in the costume shop when she'd poked her head in earlier that day. It wouldn't have been her choice, but she'd had few options, and she wasn't going to miss out on a rare night _outside_ the house. She ignored Wendy's glare of disapproval- despite everything, Wendy was keen to support her silly friends, and consequently followed after them –and swept her gaze around the room. It was an old habit from many years ago- she couldn't stop surveying her surroundings for danger. The students, of course, were completely harmless, dancing and blathering and screaming with excitement once they found their friends. But amongst them, there were, if she wasn't mistaken, boys lurking in the shadows, observing the proceedings. They couldn't be here. Not tonight. Not here. _Why_ here?

And worse, if they were here, then so was-

As the figure slunk out of the darkness and approached her, Tink's breath caught in her throat. She would know that silhouette anywhere.

"Felix," she breathed out his name in a whisper. The Lost Boy didn't say anything, and merely slid his arms around her waist. He looked down at her, eyes obscured beneath his hood- he would choose to wear it again -while she was acutely aware a swirl of emotions must have been easily visible in her own. As if of their own accord, her arms seemed to find their way around his shoulders, and he started to sway.

"You're dancing," she commented, mostly for lack of anything else to say.

"I am," he agreed.

"With me," Tink said, as though she were reminding him of their relationship (or lack thereof).

"With you," the Lost Boy nodded once.

"But...why?" Tink asked, "You hate me." After everything she'd done to him, he had to hate her. Before Regina had taken his heart, he'd flat out told her Pan would never forgive her. The unspoken second half of that statement was that neither would he. Besides, he'd made his feelings on the subject abundantly clear when he'd dragged her back to the house the day she was hungover, and he'd left her on the couch without so much as a goodbye. Wendy, of all people, had to take her to bed. She was brought out of her thoughts by Felix's chuckle:

"I don't hate you, Tink."

"Then...what-" her astonished question was cut off as he leaned down to whisper in her ear:

"Pan says he's willing to give you a second chance," he paused, "and so am I."

Under any other circumstances, Tink would have been suspicious- he'd _told_ her Pan never would forgive her, and she knew Peter. He might forgive some, but he would have taken her betrayal particularly hard. Pan wouldn't bring her back with them to Neverland; she knew that; worse, she knew she could never be with Felix, and that he would forgive her...but with the lights down and her in his arms and him looking at her like that...it was _so hard._ She didn't care about Pan anymore, she decided, but oh _God,_ she had missed Felix. If she could be with him again...

Could she kill Henry? Stand by while that happened?

She didn't think so. She wanted to help. Fairies didn't hurt, or kill.

But if for one night, Felix wanted her again...

"Outside," she whispered to him, then grabbed his hand and led him out a side entrance.

* * *

It was odd, dancing with Peter here. It didn't seem right- it seemed almost cheap, with the stars replaced by strobe lights and soft fairy music replaced by what Gretel called "contemporary."

"You look like the Wendy Darling I remember," Peter observed.

"Thank you," she replied, recognizing that from him, that was a compliment.

The music swelled, and he held her eyes for a second too long. Then, suddenly, his lips claimed hers and she felt like she was going to melt into him. What was _wrong_ with her? He'd killed his friends- her friends, too -wanted to kill an innocent boy, had kept her prisoner, and murdered her date. She should hate him. She should despise him, but here she was, falling into his arms like she belonged there.

Admittedly, Peter had always felt she did, but that was beside the point.

Simultaneously, she was in heaven and hell, in exultation and hatred. He was kissing _her,_ he had started it, but was he playing with her again? God, why did she _care?_ Why couldn't she just be normal-

It was somewhere in the middle of that thought that she realized they'd stopped swaying. She looked down and gasped. It wasn't very far, but it was clearly obvious they were floating a few inches off the floor.

Peter followed her gaze, a small smirk appearing on his face, "Happy thoughts?" She was blindsided when he kissed her again, and her thoughts seemed to all come together after that in a vague cluster.

* * *

Tinkerbell dragged Felix outside. Then she started kissing him. Instantly, his arms slid around her, and he pushed her into the brick wall. She was fairly certain part of her costume had torn, but she didn't give a damn at that moment. She was with Felix, and he was kissing her, and it was so, so perfect. She grabbed fistfuls of his blonde hair and brought him down so he could kiss her harder, and he moaned slightly into her mouth. Then he hitched his arms underneath her legs, pulling her upwards so her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips. This time, it was her who moaned:

"Felix," she whispered, and she stared into his gray eyes. They flashed with fire, and she felt a shiver go up her spine. He ran the fingers of his right hand through her hair, then yanked the elastic that held her bun in place out. Her hair tumbled out in golden waves, and idly, she couldn't help but notice the gesture. She looked at him questioningly, and he breathed:

"I've never seen your hair down 'til the other day. I liked it."

"God, I wish this was really you talking," Tink muttered. Before Felix had a chance to reply, she pulled his lips onto her own again. He responded eagerly, and moved even closer to her than she thought possible. His hands returned to her legs, fingers questioning and exploring as they moved up her thighs. She gasped- his every touch felt like electric shocks.

A part of her kept reminding herself that Regina was controlling him, and this was perverse, and wrong on so many levels-

But the other part, of her, the bigger part of her, was choosing to ignore that. She would never get a chance to do this with him again. And maybe Regina was distracted; she had to be chaperoning, after all. She couldn't be controlling Felix's every move. When the holder of a heart wasn't actively focused on them, the person whose heart it was had some freedom to act on their own.

Or at least Tink thought that was true, and she decided to cling to it.

"I have missed you," Felix breathed, "so fucking much." Tink immediately stopped kissing him- she'd never heard him swear, ever. Still, he was looking at her earnestly, and she decided to go with it:

"I've missed you too. Now can you just make up for lost time here, shut up, and fucking kiss me?"

Felix grinned at her choice of language, but obliged, almost overwhelming her with the strength of his kisses. He pressed her closer against the wall, and she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. He groaned into her ear, and she shivered, though she was fairly certain she was pleased by his reaction.

Oh, and judging from the path of his fingers, she was definitely pleased where he was going. She moaned, swiping her tongue across his lower lip, then began to run her hands across his body- from his hair to his shoulders to across his chest, where she could clearly feel his heart pounding through his shirt-

"Wait," Tink said abruptly. She pulled away from him, gazing into his eyes. It took him a few seconds to stop looking dazed, but once he noticed how out of sorts she seemed, he immediately began to apologize:

"I'm sorry, Tink. I didn't mean to- I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he was stumbling over his words, blushing like a boy with his first crush, "God, I'm sorry. I got carried away-" He immediately released her, gently removing her legs from around his waist before softly placing his hands on her hips and carefully lowering her to the ground. He stepped backwards, running a hand through his hair, obviously flustered, repentant, and concerned.

"Felix," Tink said, "I could feel your heart." She couldn't begin to process what that meant.

"Regina took your heart," Tink continued, "I know she did. How is this possible? I mean, I asked Pan, but he never said anything, and you never said anything-"

"Tink," Felix grabbed her hands, "Yes, Regina took my heart, and yes Pan got it back. It only happened a few hours ago. I didn't realize you knew."

"Of course I knew!" she nearly snapped at him, "I _know_ you, Felix! I don't know how much you remember, but we had a conversation where you talked about us going back to 'our' Neverland! You _never_ would have said that...a week ago you told me Pan would never have me back. You're loyal to him, above everything-"

"Tink, calm down. Please," Felix said. It was the emotion in his voice, more than anything else, that got through to her.

"So it's you," she said, tears filling her eyes, "It's really you."

"Yes," he affirmed.

"And you really want me," the fairy stated, hardly believing her ears.

"Yes," Felix repeated.

"So," Tinkerbell trailed off, utterly confused as to what would happen to them, "What now?" She wanted to be with him. She knew that. And she hoped that what he said- that he wanted to be with her –was true. But that couldn't occur, not unless she believed that Pan was somehow willing (and could he really be willing, she wondered?) to allow them both to be together.

Felix squeezed her hand lightly, aware of the weight of her question. Nevertheless, he chose not to answer it now. Instead, he replied:

"This." Then he kissed her again.

* * *

Back inside the gym, Slightly spotted a rather forlorn Gretel standing against the wall. Although she was dressed as the Red Queen, the short skirt spangled with sequins, she looked relatively sad. He was supposed to be patrolling with the other Lost Boys, but he couldn't help but stop to talk to her. Besides, it wasn't like there weren't a dozen others roaming the gym.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she greeted him, though her eyes weren't on him. He followed her gaze, where he saw a boy dressed all in black and a strange hat hat chatting to a girl dressed as a ballerina.

Slightly already guessed at the answer, but he couldn't help but ask, "Are you okay?"

"Not really," Gretel admitted. Then she finally turned to look at him, and she asked, confused:

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"Me," Slightly answered. He wore his old Neverland attire, with a strip of black leather over one shoulder and some ripped black cloth over the other. A good portion of his chest was exposed, and he was rather lucky none of the adults had sent him home. He typically also wore a hat, but he'd discarded it for the evening.

Gretel seemed a little taken aback by this response, but then, he mused, she seemed taken aback by him in general. At the moment, she looked as though she couldn't decide whether she was puzzled or intrigued.

"What about you?" Slightly asked, trying to distract her from her obvious sadness.

"The Red Queen," Gretel replied, before looking back in the direction of the boy dressed in black.

"You look very pretty," Slightly told her. He had been brought up in an age where girls wore ballgowns, and he knew that it was always customary for a well-brought up man to tell a girl she looked lovely at such occasions.

"I don't feel like it," Gretel sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her arms were crossed before her chest, as though she was trying to hug herself.

"Why not?" Slightly asked, "I've met the Red Queen before. She was beautiful."

"Really?" Gretel asked, though she sounded doubtful, "How?"

"Peter can travel between worlds. Sometimes we went with him. We were called upon to fight for another queen of Wonderland," Slightly gave Gretel a small smile, "but that didn't exactly go according to plan. Anyway, I met the Red Queen afterwards. She was very powerful, very proud, and very beautiful."

"Well," the girl said sadly, "I bet she didn't have her lover leave her."

The Lost Boy paused, then noted, "Actually, she seemed like she was in a loveless marriage. One thing you can say about Wonderlanders is that they love their rumors, and they whispered that she originally had another lover before she married. I like to think that her true love is still out there, and maybe she's just with the wrong guy."

There was a long silence between them. At last, Gretel stated:

"You're a strange boy."

Slightly grinned, recalling their lunch conversation, "No stranger than you." As she returned his smile he added, "Want to dance?" He held out a hand to her, unable to forget his formal upbringing.

"Yeah," Gretel took his hand, her smile growing wider, this time focusing on him. For now, it seemed, she had decided to orget the boy in black.

As Slightly led her to the dance floor, he added, "And by the way, anyone can be a ballerina, but not everyone can be a queen." With that, he placed one hand around her waist, taking the other in his own, and began to waltz with her.

* * *

Wendy still couldn't quite believe what was happening. She had kissed Peter. _Willingly_. And he'd kissed her back. And it seemed, in a very strange way, like the fantasy a young Wendy Darling had once had- of her and the gallant Peter Pan dancing together at a ball- though admittedly, Wendy's idea of a ball hadn't quite been a dance in a school gym. But maybe it was that which finally broke the spell, that _this,_ even in its own way,was a fantasy. The lights from the spinning balls covered Peter's face and flashed in her eyes, and they were lights from a time period much later than she should have been alive. The music wasn't a soft orchestra, but a pounding beat. Her gown wasn't long and elegant, but a nightgown tattered by the years this boy had stolen from her. Her smile faded, and Peter raised an eyebrow as they floated back to the ground.

"Bird, are you all right?"

She didn't have a chance to answer his question as her phone buzzed in her pocket. "I'll be right back," she informed him, gripping her cell in her hands as she made her way to outside the front of the building to take the call. She could feel Peter's eyes on her as she left, but that was hardly anything new. As the doors to the gym swung shut behind her, she picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"Wendy!" John's voice was frantic on the line.

"John?" the girl asked, frightened by his tone, "What happened? What's wrong?" _Surely Peter can't have done anything. He seemed happy enough a few minutes ago. Even he couldn't have done anything that quickly…_

"Michael's in jail!" her brother gasped out.

" _What_?" Wendy said, completely incredulous, "John, that's ridiculous. What are you talking about?" She held the one closer to her ear, certain she had misheard.

"About five minutes ago Emma and Regina came and picked up Michael in handcuffs! I asked them what was going on, but they didn't say anything- just that he was going to be taken to jail!"

"He can't be taken to jail with no cause," Wendy reasoned, trying to calm her panicking heart.

"Well, he was," John said miserably, "and I'm coming to get you."

"They won't arrest me," Wendy asserted, though she wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince John or herself. Despite herself, she looked back at the gym, checking to see if anyone was coming after her.

"I don't know if they will or not," John replied grimly, "but I'm picking you up, and we're going to try to outmaneuver the sheriff." With a squeal, John's car quickly pulled in front of the gym, stopping directly before Wendy. She immediately got in the car, strapping herself into her seatbelt and snapping her phone shut.

"And how are we going to do that?" the girl asked, her heart still pounding in her ears.

" _You're_ going to talk to Regina," John said, stepping on the gas, "You babysit her son. He likes you, and her son is her weakness. If you can use that connection to convince Regina of Michael's innocence, Regina will issue an official pardon. As mayor of Storybrooke, that outranks any arrest Emma makes as a sheriff."

"John," Wendy stated dubiously, "I don't think Regina likes me." _Actually, I think she hates me._

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, John commanded, "Okay, call Henry first. Ask him to intervene while we go talk to Regina." At Wendy's silence, John's tone softened a bit, "Wendy, he's our _brother_. We can't leave him there. I won't let us be separated again. I won't."

"I know," Wendy whispered, then vowed, "and neither will I."

* * *

Slightly was still dancing with Gretel- though now she was trying to teach him how to dance slightly faster, and it wasn't quite working –when her phone went off.

"One sec," she told him, slipping it out of a hidden pocket in her skirt. She held up the phone, and her face scrunched up in confusion.

"What is it?" Slightly asked. She held up the phone for him to see a group text message between her, Wendy, and Grace:

WENDY: Hey guys. Wanted to let you know I'm okay. I just had to go with John and check on Michael.

GRACE: Y? Ur brothers are adults lol. They can take care of themselves

WENDY: Emma apparently put Michael in jail (?) John and I are going to get him out. I'm going to talk to Regina and figure out what's going on.

As Slightly finished reading the text, he swore under his breath, then murmured, "We need to find Pan. Right now."

* * *

When they pulled up to the sheriff's station, Wendy and John practically jumped out of the car. Wendy, still in her nightgown, ran into the room containing the station's sole jail cell, where a stone-faced Michael sat with his head in his hands. Emma had her arms crossed as she stood in front of her desk, but didn't say anything as the remaining two Darlings approached the cell. If looks could kill, however, Regina's would have murdered them all immediately.

"Regina!" Wendy addressed Regina directly, "Michael hasn't done anything wrong! All he does is work and spend time with John! He's been imprisoned unfairly! And I know maybe you did this before," at Regina's narrowed eyes, Wendy quickly amended, "but I know you're trying to become a hero, and heroes don't lock people up unjustly. Henry believes you can be a hero, and so do I. This is a step to you becoming a hero. Let Michael go."

After what seemed like forever to Wendy, but was probably only a minute, Regina shrugged, "Your argument is persuasive, Miss Darling. I'm afraid I'm going to have to overturn your arrest, Miss Swan. Release him." She waved her hand nonchalantly, and a solemn Emma sighed, then walked to the cell, took out her keys, and unlocked the door. Wendy ran forward to hug Michael, but to her shock, he dodged her embrace and rushed out of the cell, leaving Wendy alone and perplexed in the middle of the cell. Then he slammed the door shut.

"Michael!" Wendy asked, "John! What are you doing!?" Her eyes darted back and forth from brother to brother.

"You were seen kissing Peter Pan this evening, Miss Darling," Regina answered for them, "and not unwillingly. I'm afraid I can't risk my son's safety for a little romantic dalliance of yours."

Emma had the grace to appear slightly more contrite as she noted, "Wendy, I remember that you helped us escape Neverland, and I don't think you would hurt Henry on purpose, but it seems like Peter has some sort of hold on you. I don't blame you for it, but Regina's right. We can't risk you going to his side."

"But you can't keep me locked up in here!" Wendy insisted, growing angrier and angrier the more she thought about it.

"Actually, we can," Regina said, sounding entirely too pleased with herself, "Pan's agreement says we can't imprison the Lost Boys, and _you_ , Miss Darling, are not a Lost Boy."

"John? Michael? You can't have agreed to this," Wendy said, in complete disbelief, though she knew from their devastated faces that they had.

"Wendy," Michael said tiredly, "We had to. When Regina called us, we realized things were getting worse. We need to keep you safe from Pan."

"This? This is supposed to keep me safe?"

"It's for your own protection," Emma said softly, "and you'll be freed as soon as we can figure out how to defeat Pan." She was the only one out of the four adults that seemed genuinely sorry about the situation. Regina seemed triumphant that Wendy had finally been locked up- she'd always been suspicious of the girl, having been found at the scene of so many murders –and John and Michael seemed resigned, but determined.

Accusingly, Wendy glared at her brothers, "I can't believe you did this."

"We don't want to lose you again," John said, somewhat pleadingly, "and we knew when Regina called we were going to lose you." They remembered how sad their sister was when she first returned from Neverland, and even though their mother thought Wendy's sadness had had to do with Bae's departure, the brothers had guessed at its true nature. They were well-aware of Wendy's original feelings for Peter, and suspected they were influencing her now.

"You don't trust me," Wendy said wonderingly. She couldn't fathom it- her own brothers had betrayed her, and without much remorse.

"No, we don't trust _him_ ," Michael countered.

Their sibling dispute was interrupted by a tap on the window. Then a piece of paper slid through the barely-there crack and fluttered to the floor at Emma's feet. Perturbed, she picked it up and read aloud, eyebrows furrowed:

"'The sky looks lovely outside your father's tomb.'"

Regina snatched the missive out of Emma's hand, "What does _that_ mean?"

Wendy, who was well-versed in such notes, replied, "It means that Pan is waiting for you." She glared at the four adults, most particularly Regina. She didn't approve of Peter's methods- and God knew what he was planning –but a rather spiteful part of her was slightly vindicated that he'd somehow, already, managed to exact some sort of trap for them. Her conscience tried to beat that part down, but it was hard to reduce her fury when she remembered her own brothers had lied to her and trapped her in jail.

"Well then," Emma declared, "Let's not keep him waiting. John, you stay here with Wendy. We're going to meet Pan."

* * *

Emma had immediately called her parents, her current boyfriend, and her ex-boyfriend upon getting into her yellow Bug with the former Evil Queen, informing them she was picking them up as soon as possible to go face off with Pan. Regina had sat in the passenger seat and brooded over Peter's brief, disconcerting missive.

_Could he know_? Regina had wondered, shifting uneasily in the front seat, _But how? Unless the stupid girl told him…_

However, she dared not voice her thoughts with the others in the car. Henry's safety depended on this secret, and she valued Henry above all else. So she'd sat in fear- how annoying an emotion it was, and one she was entirely unaccustomed to –as they made the drive to silent, decrepit Storybrooke cemetery.

When they arrived at last, Regina, Emma, Hook, Neal, and the Charmings walked warily through the cemetery. The gate creaked as they made their entrance, the screech of metal sounding like a gunshot in the quiet of the graveyard. Their small party looked left and right, alert for traps but could see very little. There were almost no lights in the cemetery- when she had created Storybrooke, Regina wanted to discourage anyone from visiting the cemetery, lest the discover her secret vault, and so had kept it unlit. As if to add to the eerie atmosphere, mist had crept in over the hill, obscuring the tombstones. The former Evil Queen felt chills run up her spine as she swore she saw movement in the shadows out of the corner of her eye.

"We're not alone," she warned the others, summoning a fireball to her hand. Not for the first time, she wondered if they themselves were being led into a trap, just as they'd led Wendy Darling into a trap not a half hour before.

"Of course you're not. I told you that in my little note, didn't I?" Pan's voice came out of the darkness, and the infernal boy himself stepped around the side of the tomb of Henry Mills, Sr. He smirked at them, his tone thick with amusement.

"What do you want, Pan?" Emma demanded. She made as if to attack him, and Hook laid a hand on her arm, trying to calm her. The Savior shook him off without even a glance in his direction. Instead, her own hand reached for the gun at her hip, though what she thought she could do with it was anyone's guess.

"Just to chat about our game," Peter said smoothly, "I wanted to congratulate you on _finally_ learning to work around the rules." He truly was impressed they'd come up with their little plot, though he was… _displeased_ about the outcome. He knew Wendy would have undoubtedly been upset, but then again, he himself had told her he'd been betrayed by the adults closest to him. Now, the same had happened to her. Still, he promised himself, he would rectify that situation as soon as possible. In the meantime, he'd take out his own displeasure on the unsuspecting people before him- the Lost Girl, her lovers, her family, and the Evil Queen.

"What do you mean?" David inquired. His own hand wandered to his waist, and while there was a gun there, it was obvious he was itching for the sword he'd used in the Enchanted Forest.

"Imprisoning Wendy," Peter stated flatly. His eyes glittered with an emotion Emma and the others couldn't identify. He seemed to be vacillating between rage, satisfaction, and a cruel calculation. It was completely disturbing, and once again, they were reminded that while he may have _looked_ like an ordinary boy at the dance this evening, he was anything but.

"How did you-?" Mary Margaret began, but Pan cut her off:

"How did I know? Oh, you should realize by now that I know _everything_. Your plan was obvious. Wendy isn't a Lost Boy, and she couldn't be kidnapped if you tricked her into going where she wanted to go- to find her brother in jail. Once she was there you trapped her inside. A bit underhanded for you, but effective, nonetheless," he nodded in acknowledgment of the result.

"If it was so obvious," Regina inquired, "then how is it that you didn't expect it? You failed," she sneered, "and now we have Miss Darling." She hadn't thought that Peter would be so invested in a girl, but he'd gone and kissed her. Emma had said it.

The demon boy shrugged nonchalantly, "We all know you won't hurt Wendy. It's not in your nature. Besides," he repeated his infamous adage with relish, "Peter Pan _never_ fails. You've just raised your stakes in the game."

"This isn't good," Hook muttered under his breath. Aloud, he warned, "Regina, don't provoke him."

"Why not?" Regina asked darkly. She hatedPan, she _hated_ him, and seeing him look so at ease on the steps of her father's tomb, as if they were steps to his throne, infuriated her. If Emma was right, and he had been kissing Wendy Darling- and she saw no reason for Emma to lie –then Wendy clearly meant _something_ to him. Didn't she? Was he bluffing? Or was he really so confident in his own plans that he simply didn't see Wendy being in jail as a setback? Or, Regina thought, did he think he was so powerful he could free her at his whim, and in the meantime, was going to taunt his so-called enemies?

"Because," Neal answered dryly, "all it's going to do is make whatever he's doing worse." He grimaced, remembering numerous occasions when he'd learned that the hard way.

"Don't be ridiculous," Regina scoffed, but Neal shook his head:

"Don't you get it? The reason he's so happy is because he's already _done_ something terrible. If you make him mad, he'll use it as an excuse to make whatever he did more terrible, or find something even worse to do."

"If you're done whispering," Peter interjected, sounding almost bored, "I thought it would only be fair to tell you I've raised my stakes as well."

"What've you done, Pan?" Hook queried wearily. Like Neal, he knew at this point there was no reversing whatever Pan had done, only reacting to it. It was better to get Pan to admit the truth rather than taunt them and leave them guessing.

"I'm admiring my new vault," Peter explained. With a careless grin, he reached forward and threw open the great stone doors. Regina eagerly waited for her magical protections to destroy him, but nothing happened. Her jaw dropped, and Pan's grin grew larger.

"Regina," Mary Margaret murmured, shell-shocked, "Didn't you put spells on that?"

"A hundred and twelve," the former Evil Queen confirmed, "The _only_ people who can get into that vault are me, and people who I allow in. He should be dust by now!"

"Ah, and that's where you're wrong," Pan said gleefully, "The only people who can get into this vault are _me,_ and whoever _I_ allow in. Your vault belongs to me. It has since the day we made the rules for our contract."

"That doesn't make any sense," Regina protested, "I was in here with Henry and Wendy, just the other night."

"Because I let you in," Pan said, "I didn't want you to realize I owned your vault."

There was a dreadful silence, and with utter horror, Regina whispered:

"You _wanted_ me to take out my heart, and Henry's."

Peter smirked, "Did you only now just catch on?"

"Wait!" Emma interrupted, becoming more agitated as she realized the gravity of the situation, "What's he talking about? You took out Henry's heart? And it's _in that vault_!?"

"Oh yes," Pan affirmed, "Regina's heart, and Henry's, are inside the tomb of her dearly departed father, where she so conveniently put them the other night. And Felix's heart, meanwhile-" as if on cue, his loyal second glided into view behind a nearby tombstone, his teeth wide in an entirely unnerving smile – "is back where it should be, after she so conveniently put _his_ heart in her vault this morning."

At Emma's accusatory glare, Regina said defensively, "Yes, I took Felix's heart. I was going to use him as a spy, but I didn't want to be carrying it around all the time." She ran a hand through her hair, fury coursing through her. _Damn Peter Pan to hell. If only I could put a sleeping curse on him, and send him there myself!_

"But I don't understand," David queried, "How were you able to take control of Regina's vault in the first place?" He'd battled Regina in the Enchanted Forest, and he knew she would never leave her property undefended, especially something so precious to her as her father's tomb.

"Don't you see?" Pan smirked, "You should _always_ listen to what you're promising."

"I did not promise you my vault!" Regina practically screamed at him, sending a fireball his way, which he dodged with practiced ease. He gave a brief wave of his hand, and the Charmings, Regina, Emma, Neal, and Hook moved together in a tight circle as roughly forty torches were simultaneously lit around the graveyard. A hooded figure held each torch, the flames flickering in the darkness, making what little could be seen of their obscured faces vaguely demonic. Mary Margaret forced down a gasp as she took in the sheer number of them- they could only be Lost Boys -who had returned to Pan's side. Or, she considered, perhaps even more frighteningly, there were new Lost Boys who had _joined_ him from Storybrooke's population. She clutched her husband's hand, and breathed deeply as she fought to focus on the main conversation and not the possible ambush closing in around them.

"But you did," Pan said calmly, staring Regina straight in the eye, "You see, I asked for your holdings, which by definition, is legally owned property. You legally own- well, owned -the vault. As such, it is now mine. And your spell, which was to only let the owner inside...well, that's now me. And all of its contents are now mine. Including your son's heart."

"You bastard," Regina swore.

Pan's eyes darkened at the insult, and angry murmurs came from all directions, though no one attacked them.

"Not quite," he retorted, "Just intelligent. Now this whole town is mine. And I have your son's heart- all I need is to get him to believe in me."


	23. Time has stopped before us, the sky cannot ignore us- no one can separate us, for we are all that's left.

Nearly a week passed while Regina, Mary Margaret, Emma, Hook, and Neal processed the events that had occurred the night of the dance. They couldn't understand how thoroughly- and how _easily_ -Pan had tricked them. They had thought, briefly, that imprisoning Wendy would not only protect her, but give them the upper hand. Clearly, Pan found the entire situation beneath his notice, as he'd merely smirked with pleasure any time he came in contact with their fractured family.

As for them, they found the situation deadly serious. Consequently, while the Lost Boys (and Pan, shockingly enough) went to school that Monday as if nothing was amiss, their group took the opportunity to meet during the lunch hour (David, much to Henry's chagrin, had been following him around during the day as a bodyguard). They stood in a worried huddle in Mary Margaret's office, with the door shut. Mary Margaret herself bit her lip, unable to hide her worry, while Hook brooded and stared out the window. Emma crossed her arms, resisting the urge to fidget, while Neal said matter-of-factly:

"We need to get Henry out of Storybrooke. I know you don't agree with my plan. _I_ don't want to agree with my plan, but if anything, this just proves how dangerous Pan is. How treacherous he is. We cannot leave Henry in the same world, never mind the same town, as Pan. -"

With a roll of her eyes, Regina disdained, "I'm sure we can think of another way to deal with one smug teenager." She was furious with Pan, it was true, but she did not want to be parted from her son. Additionally, she knew if she let on how she'd started to fear the brat, she knew the rest of the town would take their cue from her and panic. She couldn't allow that to happen.

"All due respect, Your Majesty," Hook replied, with an equal amount of disdain in his voice, "but you're hardly one to talk. If I'm not mistaken, it's your contract that got us into this whole mess."

"And if _I'm_ not mistaken," Regina sneered, instantly defensive, "Your girlfriend wrote our terms for that damn contract!" Emma and Neal both flinched, and looked anywhere but at each other as Regina spat out "girlfriend." Mary Margaret raised an eyebrow, but her daughter also refused to look at her.

Mary Margaret sighed, shook her head, then reached between Regina and the pirate, "All right, back off, both of you! We're here for Henry, remember? Let's focus on what we're going to do, and where Henry's going to go."

"She's right," Neal concurred. Regina was slightly miffed, but she instead took the seat behind Mary Margaret's desk and gestured for them to continue. At that, Mary Margaret almost took offense (Regina had already stolen her throne once; the least she could was leave her principal's chair alone), but Emma stepped in and quipped:

"Well, the Mad Hatter's hat is destroyed, we're all out of magic beans, and Hook's ship can't exactly go back without a Pegasus sail, so how do you suggest we get to another world, Neal?"

Neal paused in thought, then hazarded, "I think flying isn't the only way out. You should probably ask a mermaid."

"A mermaid?" Emma cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course," Regina breathed, "Mermaids can cross realms."

Before she could truly become excited, however, the pirate interjected, "Neverland had lots of mermaids, but they're bloody vicious creatures. And Pan kept them bound to the island, and to him. Even if you could get to them, they'd sooner rip you to shreds than help you."

"I remember exactly how Neverland mermaids are. Thank you, Hook, for that redundant information. Luckily for us, I happen to know one who isn't from Pan's horde." Despite Hook's warning, Regina's eyes gleamed with triumph, and she made as if to leave the office.

"Regina," Snow said warningly, "I won't let you manipulate Ariel again." She stepped in front of Regina, blocking her exit. The former Evil Queen narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not manipulating her," Regina replied instantly "I'm asking her to help my son."

"Maybe I should talk to her," Mary Margaret mused, "I don't think she'd be willing to help you." The words were diplomatic enough, but the harsh insinuation behind them wasn't missed by anyone in the room.

"You really think she would refuse to help a child?" Regina scoffed, but Mary Margaret nodded:

"If _you_ asked, absolutely. As much as you want to be a hero, Regina, the fact is you were a villain once, and people have long memories. Ariel won't forget what you did to her."

Regina frowned, "Of course, you, pure as the driven _snow_ , wouldn't have this problem."

Emma sighed, "Regina, you know she's right."

As the Savior, the pirate, the former Snow White, and the former Baelfire stared at her, Regina bristled under their gaze. Yes, she had been the Evil Queen, and she didn't regret her actions then- if she hadn't made them, she never would have met Henry. But she was trying to _change_ now. Didn't that matter? To anyone? Or were they always going to treat her as a villain, and never even give her a chance to be a hero?

Frustrated, she spat, "Fine. Go be the heroes. Let me know how that works out for you." Then she stomped out of the office, determined to find her own way to save Henry.

* * *

A bit stunned by Regina's abrupt departure, the Charmings, Neal, and Hook stared after her. Then, they returned to the discussion:

"Others who travel from world to world include fairies," David interjected, "We could ask the Blue Fairy for her advice as well."

"Then let's do it," Emma said decisively. Feeling secure in at least having one step of a plan, she called both the Mother Superior and Ariel on her phone. Nervously, she paced the office, waiting for the pair. They arrived together, a soft knock indicating their presence. Mary Margaret welcomed them immediately, and Neal rapidly explained their predicament.

The Mother Superior's eyes widened, "You plan to take Henry from this world?"

"We don't know what else to do," Mary Margaret said, desperation in her voice.

"We don't plan on leaving him there forever, if that's what you're worried about," Hook interjected sourly. He'd never been much of a fan of fairies- there were few he even tolerated, and being the presence of their queen was not improving his mood.

The Mother Superior turned her gaze on the pirate, "Traveling from realm to realm is dangerous even under normal circumstances. I thought you would have learned that by now."

"Your kind travel from world to world, fairy," Hook replied, "How is it not dangerous for you, but for everyone else?"

The Mother Superior's lips pursed, "It _is_ dangerous. We can no longer travel either. Perhaps you are unaware of one of Pan's darkest deeds-"

"How many more dark deeds can he have?" Emma wondered, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

"Hundreds," Neal said easily, "and believe me, you don't want to know all of them."

"But you must know this," the fairy replied, "You, Baelfire, and you, pirate, both have touched Neverland's soil. Surely you've heard the souls of my people screaming in the night?"

"There were many souls screaming in Neverland," Hook answered, "'Fraid they all run together, after a while."

"Killian!" Emma gasped at his callousness, but he merely looked at her, sad and tired:

"It's true, love. Children cried in the night, mermaids screeched in the night, souls screamed in the night. Pan's hurt many and killed more."

"He's right," Neal swallowed, "Sometimes, to keep our sanity, we had to pretend they weren't there. Don't judge us for that." Emma blinked, but said nothing at her boyfriend's and former lover's admissions.

"Well," the Mother Superior sniffed, "if you _ignored_ their cries for justice, I'll tell you. My sister was Queen Titania-"

"Wait, like 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' Queen Titania?" Emma was incredulous.

The Mother Superior rolled her eyes, "Yes, it was a petty fight between my sister and her husband that occurred at a time they were in the Land Without Magic. A human happened to believe in us and witnessed some of the events. He profited off of his elaboration on them, but that is beside the point.

"The point is that my sister, her husband, and her court were in Neverland for many years. Pan welcomed them at first. Then one night, he and his second- Felix -ruthlessly murdered them. He killed them all. Every fairy who was in Neverland that day lost their life to them," the Mother Superior said bitterly, "It was only by sheer luck that I had traveled to the Enchanted Forest the evening before."

"Blue," Mary Margaret said in horror, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea." She reached out to touch the fairy in sympathy, but the Mother Superior flinched and shook her head.

"Before that day, fairies traveled from realm to realm using our own home dimension, Faerie. It worked much like a road does here, lined with houses. If Faerie was the road, other worlds were houses, and we were free to come and go to the as we wished, aiding those who needed us. But the day that Pan slaughtered Titania and the court, I inherited the throne, and it became my responsibility to protect the remaining fairies. I was young, and I had never expected to become queen, let alone in such a horrible manner. I had to make a decision."

* * *

_The Blue Fairy, newly anointed Queen Mab sat in the crystal palace of Faerie. Normally, it glinted brightly in the realm's sun, but today, its turrets were draped in the black velvet of mourning. She was at the head of her council table, though the chair felt vast and unfamiliar. It belonged to her older sister, not her, and Mab struggled to hold back tears at the thought that she was now placed in it. The chair on her right was empty. Reserved for the husband of the fairy queen, it had belonged to her brother-in-law, Oberon. But he too was dead._

_So many were dead._

_The remaining seats at the council table were consequently filled by distant relatives and cousins. Like her, they had been abruptly called to titles and power they never expected to wield. None of them were prepared for this, and none had the political training or acumen that the previous holders of their titles did._

_Fighting back her confusion and desperation, Mab announced, "We are here under the gravest of circumstances. We have all lost those beloved to us," she paused, letting a moment of silence linger for those who had died, "They died at a traitor's hands, hands that were trusted and nurtured by my late sister and her husband. It is obvious to me that no fairy can travel again to Neverland, lest he or she be murdered as well." The members of the council murmured their agreement._

_"What is equally clear to me," Mab continued, then adding uncertainly, "after much thought- is that traveling from realm to realm is no longer safe for us._ _**He** _ _can travel from realm to realm, and if we remain nomadic, we will be unprepared for an attack by him. I cannot allow this to happen anywhere else."_

_"What do you suggest?" Lurline, Mab and Titania's third cousin, inquired. She was the second-eldest of the various nobility assembled, after Mab herself, and was just as eager to protect their race._

_Mab sighed, knowing that her declaration would forever change the Fair Folk, "We must establish a permanent court-"_

_"A permanent court?" protested Gloriana, a fourth cousin who shared Titania's brilliant blonde hair, "We can't do that. Our vows are to protect and help those of all realms. A permanent court, without traveling from realm to realm, leaves many worlds without our aid. That's impossible."_

_"Let me finish, Gloriana," Mab berated her gently, and Gloriana blushed, contrite:_

_"My apologies, Your Majesty."_

_"You are correct in that our vows say we must help those in every world._ _**I** _ _am correct in that we cannot protect ourselves from Pan without creating permanent courts with established defenses- such as an army."_

_"Courts?" inquired a fairy with hair as black as night, "Surely you don't mean-"_

_"I do," Mab confirmed, "We must create a permanent fairy court in each world, with its own defenses and," she added this part softly, "its own monarchs. All travel between worlds is forbidden. In this way, we can continue to aid and help those of every world, while still protecting ourselves."_

_"But if travel is forbidden," the dark-haired fairy continued, "many of our people may never see each other again."_

_"I know," the Blue Fairy nodded, "It is for this reason that I will give each fairy the option of which world he or she will wish to reside in."_

_"And what of our home world? Our very land gives us the opportunity to go wherever we wish," another fairy, this time a brunette with extraordinary purple eyes, pointed out._

_At this, Mab took a deep breath, "Aradia, you have brought me to perhaps the most horrendous part of this decision. I am Queen of Faerie, and in order to prevent such travel, I will seal off our homeland forever. In this way, none may travel through...everyone will stay at their permanent court. Everyone will be safe," she repeated the words to herself like a mantra._

_"We must abandon our home forever?" Gloriana said, tears in her eyes, "Are we truly to depart our world, never to return? How can you say that?" she clenched her fists._

_"Yes, we are! And I say that because_ _**I am Queen of Faerie!** _ _" Mab retorted, this time with anger in her tone, "We are to leave Faerie behind. We will also leave another world behind: the only world where we shall be forbidden to have a presence is that of Elphame."_

_At the gasps of horror around the council table, she continued, "Most people of Elphame no longer believe in us anyway!"_

_"They still deserve our help!" Aradia nearly shouted._

_"They are dangerous," Mab practically snarled, "_ _**He** _ _came from Elphame! We cannot trust anyone from Elphame!"_

_"So not only are we abandoning our world," the dark-haired fairly said slowly, "We are abandoning Elphame. We are leaving it as a land without magic."_

_"Yes, Morgan," Mab declared, "It is my royal order that Faerie be sealed off, and that our people choose new home worlds that they will never depart. They will obey their vows there, helping and aiding the people of their new home as they see fit. It is my royal declaration that none will return to Faerie, and my royal declaration that none return to Elphame, and the land be without magic, forevermore," she bit her lip, "It is also my royal declaration that you shall become the queens of the remaining worlds. You may choose them now, in order of age," Mab nodded, "I will be the Fairy Queen of the Enchanted Forest."_

_Next to her, Lurline said softly, "I will be the Fairy Queen of Oz."_

_Next to her, Morgan declared, "I will be the Fairy Queen of Camelot."_

_Next to her, Aradia announced, "I will be the Fairy Queen of Wonderland."_

_And next to her, Gloriana stated,"I will be the Fairy Queen of Narnia."_

_So it went on, until each of the sixteen cousins had staked her claim._

_Finally, Mab concluded, her voice weary, "There are countless other worlds. Each requires a monarch. I will let our people choose where they wish to go first, and then elect a monarch from that number. They will have three days to choose, and on the third day, we will depart."_

* * *

Emma's jaw dropped, "So you're saying it's impossible for fairies to go from world to world now."

"Yes, with our traditional methods. It is also incredibly dangerous with nontraditional means. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but in this, I am afraid I can be of no help," the Mother Superior answered.

"You're never a disappointment, Blue," Mary Margaret attempted to comfort the fairy, "I can't imagine having to make that kind of decision."

The Mother Superior sighed, "I pray you don't."

There was a long silence as they pondered the gravity of that statement. Then, David cleared his throat, trying to bring them all back to their present circumstances. He looked expectantly at Ariel, and the mermaid started, realizing the pressure that was now placed on her.

"I'm afraid that Henry wouldn't survive the journey," Ariel said sadly, "It is possible for mermaids to cross worlds, and we can take some with us, but it does take time, and Henry couldn't hold his breath that long. I understand that it is possible for a human to turn into a mermaid, but I won't trust Regina's magic again." She shook her head vehemently, clearly remembering the negative effects of the last time she'd made that decision.

"There has to be another way," Emma stated firmly, "There just does. I won't let Pan take my-" she glanced at Neal, "our son. Please," she turned to the Blue Fairy again, "Maybe you can't help us in the traditional way, but new inventions are made all the time. You made one for me, a magic wardrobe-"

"I'm afraid there are no enchanted trees here-"

"Think! There has to be _something_!" Emma pleaded, and the fairy closed her eyes, deep in thought. She was no longer in the Enchanted Forest, but she _was_ the Fairy Queen of the Enchanted Forest. This was the princess of the Enchanted Forest asking for her help. She had to do something, didn't she? She'd given up for far too long, mourning the two worlds she'd lost. Perhaps it was time she reclaimed her crown and fought again- thought as the fairy queen and fairy godmother she had once been. With that resolve in her heart, she had a flash of insight:

"You could use the Well of Wonders. Every world has one, even the Land Without Magic."

"The what?" Emma asked.

"The Well of Wonders," Mother Superior repeated, "You might recognize it as the Wishing Well. It's in the forest," she continued, almost excited with her idea, "When I stripped this world of its magic, it became an ordinary well, but when Regina cast the Dark Curse, it reactivated its power."

"What's it do?" Neal inquired.

"Water runs beneath all the worlds, as stars go above. The Well of Wonders in each world serves as a connecting point," the Mother Superior gestured with her hands.

"How does that work with the mermaids?" David furrowed his brow, confused. He was fairly certain mermaids didn't have to climb into a well every time they traversed the spaces between worlds. From what he knew, they just disappeared into the ocean and did...whatever they did to travel between worlds.

Ariel noted, "We have only to wish to swim in the waters beneath the worlds, and we can."

"The Well makes the waters accessible to everyone, not just mermaids," Mother Superior said, "or at least those deemed worthy by the guardian."

"What guardian?" Emma said, instantly wary. She knew there had to be a catch- there always was.

"Nyx," Mother Superior noted, "One that humans have incorrectly identified as a goddess. In actuality, she is the daughter of a mermaid and a fairy," she frowned, "A mix that has not been allowed since, and for good reason. She is considered an abomin- not ideal by both races, and consequently was given the duty of guarding the waters in order to hide her existence, and protect the worlds. When one tries to take water from the Well, she appears and judges whether the taking of the water is justified."

"If she judges taking the water," Hook said, "it doesn't sound like she lets anyone go through it."

"But if a mermaid asked, she would," Ariel hypothesized, "That's it, isn't it? I ask Nyx to allow Henry to travel with me through the Well, and we go to another world. Using the Well will shorten the journey to a few seconds."

Mother Superior nodded, "I think so."

"That's as good a plan as any," Neal stated, "That's how we get Henry to another world. And if Nyx judges who's worthy to pass through, she'll definitely say no to Pan."

"But how does Pan go from world to world? What's to stop him from finding Henry?" David asked.

"Pan flies; he goes above the worlds using the stars. But there are hundreds of worlds; hundreds of stars. He couldn't possibly guess a world we picked," Neal explained.

"Aye," Hook added, "He'd spend thousands of years searching. I think this is our best chance, love," he looked to Emma for the final decision, and she nodded:

"I'll tell Regina."

* * *

Regina hung up the phone, both perturbed and pleased by Emma's plan. On the surface, it was a good one- take Henry away from Storybrooke, show him to Nyx, and ask for passage to another world. But it involved too many variables for her taste- namely, six extra variables. God knew Mary Margaret couldn't keep a secret to save her life, and her husband was just as stupid. Regina cared about as much for the Blue Fairy as the fairy did for her- that is to say, not at all. Then, of course, there was the Savior and her two beaux. Regina remembered the pirate's duplicity in working for both her and her mother- while Emma might be enchanted by his wiles, Regina didn't trust him. Then, of course, there was Neal, formerly known as Baelfire. While Regina didn't have much of an issue with Neal himself, she most certainly had an issue with his father, Rumplestiltskin. She'd learned the hard way not to make deals with Dark One, and she'd also learned the Dark One was obsessed with three things: (1) his power (2) Neal and (3) Belle. If she could keep Rumplestiltskin from any knowledge of where Henry would be, she would- for all Pan had to do was threaten Neal or Belle and she knew he'd give up Henry's location immediately.

Finally, there was the Savior herself. Regina knew if anyone could be trusted to ensure Henry's safety, it was Emma. However, Emma had inherited her parents'- Regina sighed at the appropriateness of the phrase -hero complex. She might do something stupid in an attempt to save Henry, when in the act of _doing_ something so stupid, she actually endangered him. Regina couldn't allow her to be involved, especially if- and at this, Regina swallowed in trepidation- something happened to Regina. Emma had to be around, and had to be safe, to protect Henry if Regina couldn't.

Therefore, none of the Charmings (or the pirate, or the Dark One's spawn) could know of the minor adjustment she was making to their plan.

The only one who would know was a certain mermaid.

* * *

_It took Wendy ages- or at least it felt that way -to get over Rufio's death. Or perhaps she wouldn't say get over- perhaps it was more like being able to breathe and not see that horrible image of Hook plunging his sword into Rufio's chest._

_Then one day, it was if she finally realized the gravity of her circumstances. Days had passed in Neverland. And every day was a year in her world. How old would her parents be? John and Michael? They would have given up on her, thought she was dead for sure. Could it be possible that they themselves were now dead?_

_Her heart broke a little at the thought. Shaking her head, she gazed at her reflection in the full-length mirror Peter had placed in her treehouse. Her hair was scraggly, the bow half-hanging off her head. Her gown, oddly, was still a shining white- probably due to Peter's magic -but dirt had found its way onto her knees and under her fingernails, and her red-rimmed eyes showed the damage that was more or less invisible on her appearance._

_Swallowing, she said loudly and clearly, "Peter, I need to talk to you." She'd been trying to figure out if the trees of Neverland did carry messages to Pan, and while she'd never gotten a definitive answer, she was unable to deny that Peter almost always came when she called._

_Sure enough, she looked away but for a moment. When she sighed and opened her eyes again, she could see Peter's reflection in the mirror. He was leaning, arms crossed, against the wall next to her bed. Her bedside lamp burned low, and the dying embers cast strange shadows on his face._

_She whirled around to face him, and he smirked at her._

_"Good evening, Bird."_

_"Peter," Wendy said, "how much time has passed? In our world?"_

_He cocked an eyebrow and replied, "You know you can always go to Skull Rock and look at the hourglass to tell you how much time has passed in Neverland."_

_"You know I don't mean Neverland."_

_"And you know that Neverland is my world- and yours too, now," Pan pointed out._

_"Fine," Wendy retorted, deciding she would save that battle for another day, "How much time has passed in the Land Without Magic, since I came here?"_

_"I'm not sure."_

_"You're lying."_

_"Bird, I'm not lying-" he started, but she cut him off, slightly hysterical:_

_"Yes, you are! You know! Tell me!" Wendy threw herself at him. Surprised at her onslaught, he tripped slightly, so his back was flush against the wall. Wendy had her hands fisted around his sleeves so tightly she had pulled a few leaves off._

_The tears in her eyes wiped the smirk off his face. Taken aback, he replied:_

_"Twenty-one years and six days. Or at least since I last checked the hourglass."_

_Wendy made a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, and released him. Fighting to keep her breakfast down, she instead focused on why his count didn't make sense- he had said twenty-one years and six days. There was no reason for the "six days" to be mentioned, unless-_

_"You didn't use the diamond?"_

_"Not until a week or so ago, no," Peter replied, a bit unsure as to why he was telling her at all._

_"Why not?" she asked._

_"Using it would change Neverland, and me, for ages. I didn't want to let go of my power," he admitted, and if it had been anyone else, she would have thought there was a touch of vulnerability in his voice._

_As it was, Wendy laughed morbidly, "You still have power. If nothing else, that's what never changes. You will_ _**always** _ _have power."_

_Despite himself, Peter smiled._

* * *

That same afternoon, Wendy was sitting in her jail cell, resisting the urge to claw at the walls in a futile attempt to escape. They didn't realize what being locked up did to her mentally, though they were nice enough with her physical needs. They let her out once a day to shower (with Emma standing outside), and twice to go to the bathroom. They fed her, but they'd taken her phone, hiding it within a desk drawer. Supposedly, it was to keep her from contacting Pan- though if Pan truly wanted to talk to her, he was hardly going to be deterred by her lack of an electronic device. In either case, it kept Wendy away from the reading app Belle had showed her how to download on her phone, and she was consequently bored out of her mind.

"Hey," David looked up from his desk, "You've got a visitor." He quickly frisked the intruder, but seeing all she carried was a bookbag, let her move towards Wendy's cell. Then he returned to examining the map of the forest he'd made this afternoon, trying to determine exactly _when_ would be the best time to spirit Henry away to the Well of Wonders- and what formation would be best for his family, Hook, and Neal to make as guards. As such, he was entirely absorbed in his task, and the girl was allowed to approach Wendy freely.

"Hey," Gretel greeted Wendy with a small smile, "How are you doing?"

Wendy cracked a smile of her own, "As good as can be expected, I suppose."

"Yeah, Grace and I figured, especially when you didn't answer our texts."

Wendy jerked her head towards the desk, "Sorry, they took my phone. I literally don't have anything to keep me in contact with the outside world."

"Well, I brought you your homework, if you want _that_ contact with the outside world," Gretel joked, "Though if I were you, I'd tell the principal there was now way in hell I was doing my homework when she put me in jail for getting kissed at a school dance."

"Gretel," Wendy said, her tone a clear warning, but Gretel went on undeterred:

"Speaking of, how _was_ that, by the way? I didn't see it," she admitted, "I was kind of distracted."

"It was..." Wendy trailed off, "He just sort of came up to me, told me I was pretty, started dancing with me, and kissed me."

Gretel blinked, "Wow. Height of romance, isn't he?"

"Gretel-" Wendy said, tone full of warning again, but the girl said:

"He stalks you obsessively, offs your boyfriend, and then doesn't even say anything before he kisses you? Geez, he needs to talk to Slightly-"

At that comment, the hairs on Wendy's neck stood on end, "What do you mean, 'he needs to talk to Slightly?'"

"Right," Gretel shook her head, "They took your phone. Sorry, you wouldn't know this. Anyway, Jeff ditched me at the dance," she explained, a few tears in her eyes, "but Slightly came up to me, and he asked me to dance, and he told me I looked beautiful and that not everyone could be a queen, and we've kind of been talking since-"

"You've been talking to Slightly," Wendy said carefully, "about what, exactly?"

* * *

_Ever since the night of the dance, Gretel and Slightly had made it a point to meet and talk, at least once a day, privately. At first, both had tried to make it seem accidental. It was easier on the Lost Boy's part to do this- after all, he'd hunted and tracked prey for hundreds of years, and so doing the same with this strange girl hadn't been particularly difficult -but he had to admit, he'd been amused by her feigning walking into him and knocking his books out of his arms, then deliberately "forgetting" to give him one back so he'd be forced to take it from her after school._

_They'd started to chat about the "strangeness" of their lives. She'd told him the story of how she and her brother wanted to find their father, and how the Evil Queen had tricked them into almost being eaten by the Blind Witch. Gretel had been candid with her past, though Slightly was a bit more reluctant. He admitted that he missed his parents, and so he understood her there, and he admitted he'd once gone to school with Peter. Other than that, he preferred to tell her stories about Neverland, as Neverland had been in its golden days:_

_"You would have loved it, Gretel. There were mermaids and fairies-" he said wistfully._

_"I've seen fairies before," Gretel protested. There had been plenty in the Enchanted Forest, though she hadn't interacted with them much._

_"Not like this," Slightly insisted, "Only Peter could go to their balls, but every once in a while, they'd let the rest of us watch. They danced in a clearing, surrounded by stones. Flowers were blooming everywhere, even in the middle of the night, from just the slightest touch of their magic. They danced under the stars, the men dressed in their finest doublets, the women in beautiful gowns made of silk they claimed they took from the moon."_

_"Silk they took from the moon?" Gretel said, incredulous._

_"You know how the moon has phases? It changes its shape?"_

_"Yes."_

_"According to the fairies, the moon in Neverland isn't a true moon, but made of silk and dreams, and it changes its shape because the fairies fly to the moon to harvest the silk. They unravel it, like a ball," Slightly took Gretel's hand in his to demonstrate, "and the fairy women make their gowns with it. Then the moon grows again, regaining its fullness as new silk grows."_

_"That sounds impossible," Gretel laughed, "The moon's made of silk and dreams?"_

_"Peter made all of Neverland," Slightly told her, "The world is constructed from his imagination, and I promise you, he has a great imagination," the Lost Boy grinned, "Neverland's not like this world, not at all." He sounded boastful, but not arrogant- almost like a parent who talked about their child with utmost affection._

_Gretel queried, "If the moon was silk, what were the stars? Jewels?"_

_Slightly replied, "I don't think so, though that's a nice thought. The stars were real. That's how you get to and from Neverland, you see, by using the stars. Each star is a separate world. In fact, you could see the Enchanted Forest from Neverland."_

_"You could?" Gretel asked._

_"Yes. It was the sixth star to the left," he affirmed. The directions were vague to her, but to a Neverlander, it was enough for immediate identification._

_"Was it a pretty star?" Gretel asked, and somehow, Slightly sensed she wasn't talking about the star anymore._

_He chose his words carefully, "Very pretty. It was so pretty I wished we could see it all the time- not just at night, but during the day, too."_

_Gretel snuck a glance at him and blushed, then cast her eyes downward._

_"If Peter created Neverland- if he made the world by his imagination -couldn't he imagine that? Couldn't he make it so you could see the star all the time?"_

_Slightly swallowed. In truth, he hadn't allowed himself to think about that. He didn't know what was going on between him and Gretel, but the very idea of Gretel in Neverland..._

_"He probably could," the Lost Boy admitted at last, "but I don't think- he wouldn't, not yet."_

_Gretel looked crushed, and he hurriedly tried to remedy the situation, "Pan loved- he loved to imagine things for Wendy. If he was going to imagine new things, it would be for her first." He inwardly berated himself- he was babbling, and he was hardly acting the elegant aristocrat he'd been raised to be. They had_ _**taught** _ _him how to be a gentleman at Eton, and he was spectacularly failing._

_"But if I were in his position," Slightly attempted to regain some eloquence, "I would imagine the star at night, during the day-"_

_Shyly, Gretel looked up at him again, and he continued:_

_"-in the morning, and the evening-"_

_Slightly spoke every word more and more slowly, each syllable drawing out until it was in time with a breath, and it was if each breath pulled him towards her, like some magnetic force. He was distracted by her eyes, by the pink in her cheeks, the curl of her lashes-_

_"-and the sunrise, and the sunset-"_

_No one was more surprised than him when their lips met, in a soft, sweet, and chaste kiss._

* * *

"Gretel," Wendy trailed off, examining her friend for the first time, "Don't make the mistake of thinking that Neverland is magical and happy. It was once, but it's not anymore, and don't make the mistake of thinking that just because Slightly is nice, Neverland is nice too.

"It changed, Gretel," Wendy whispered, well-aware she'd made that mistake years ago with Peter, "and it changed me. Pan sent me away from Neverland, and he broke my heart. Later, I came back to try to rescue a boy I saw as my brother. Peter tricked me, and I agreed to stay forever to let Baelfire go. I never saw my parents again, and the next time I saw Michael and John, they were grown men, forever changed. Our relationship is broken, and I think now it's beyond repair," she swallowed, "I had one close friend, my best friend in Neverland, after Bae left. His name was Rufio," tears sparkled in her eyes, "and when he died, so did the last part of my innocence. I wasn't a star-eyed little girl anymore. I became hardened-"

"Wendy-"

"-and my heart broke a little more every day. But that's the thing- when your heart's broken every day, you learn to live with it. You learn to _survive_ , whatever your circumstances. I did," her eyes fixed on Gretel's, suddenly filled with an age not reflected by her youth, "and I don't want that for you. It's not a life I'd wish on anyone."

"But Peter cares for you," Gretel said, "Slightly told me."

Wendy flinched, memories tearing at her heart, "Maybe he does, and if that's true, I wouldn't wish that on anyone either. I recently learned more about him than I ever knew before. He started out nobly enough. Now, I even _understand_ why he did what he did at first. But later...his aims became twisted, and his hands are stained with blood, and it's that which drives him. If he cares for you, he'll kill for you, and he'll kill anyone who gets in his way, innocent or not. And that will stay on _your_ conscience for the rest of your life."

"Wendy," Gretel said sadly, "That's not true."

"Yes it is, Gretel," Wendy answered, desperately trying to save the naive reflection of her younger self she saw standing before her, embodied in her friend, "And perhaps the worst part of it at all, is that there is one thing I can say for Peter Pan, and it's more than I can say for anyone else in my life: he's consistent. He's never left me. Bae, my brothers...even Tink abandoned camp. Emma. The Charmings. Several Lost Boys who joined the Charmings. But Peter? Peter has never left me," she bit her lip, "and somehow, despite everything, I find some strange comfort in that."

* * *

In the minds of John and Michael Darling, keeping Wendy imprisoned in the Storybrooke jail had one aim: keeping her away from Pan. In the mind of Regina, it had a very different one: keeping Pan away from Henry. For it seemed that while Pan was utterly maniacal, and little could distract him, he had a strange fascination with Wendy Darling. Regina suspected that he would be fixated on that, and try to free her. Presumably, his henchmen would be also focused on that. And hopefully, she could maneuver a small disappearance, and the one or two lookouts he constantly had watching her apartment every night- oh yes, she _noticed_ -wouldn't realize anything was amiss. And in the meantime, she could spirit Henry away to Wonderland.

"Henry," she whispered to her sleeping son, "Time to get up." Still a bit drowsy, he rubbed his eyes:

"Mom?"

"It's time to go," Regina said softly. Henry said nothing for a moment, but then remembering their plan- or what he thought was their plan- he'd called it Operation Rabbit -he swung himself out of bed, throwing his jacket and sneakers on with reckless abandon.

When he was ready, Regina snapped her fingers, and in a swirl of her signature purple smoke, they appeared beside the well, where Ariel waited for them. The mermaid kept her arms crossed in the cold weather, but when she saw them, she waved them over.

"Quickly!" she said, "When Nyx comes, we won't have much time." She bent down over the well, and called out with a crisp, clear voice:

"Secret sister, I summon thee. Come here this night and please aid me. Through waves blue and ocean black, come to me; please come back. From waters which run the worlds betwixt, come to me now, my sister Nyx." Her entreaty, which to Regina sounded suspiciously like a spell, echoed in the walls of the well. Ariel's beautiful voice reverberated against the stones, the words repeating over and over, like a prayer.

Suddenly, there was a ripple of water. It was soft at first, as if someone had dropped a coin in the well. Then it abruptly grew louder, roaring like a storm. Water cycled up through the well like a typhoon. Ariel stood back as the cyclone burst through the top of the well, then fell away, revealing one of the creepiest women Regina had ever seen. Her dark hair was bound in tight braids, from which water dripped. Seaweed was woven into her hair, and also into the white dress that pressed up against her form. She tilted her head angrily. As her gaze burned into Regina, the former Evil Queen shivered, feeling as though Nyx could see every single crime she had ever committed. She gulped, then gathered her courage:

"Nyx, I presume?"

"Yes. I am the Guardian of the Well of Wonders. Who disturbs my slumber?" the guardian replied, her voice deep and almost hateful.

"My name is Queen Regina of the Enchanted Forest-" Regina began, but Nyx cut her off:

"You've drowned many over the years."

The former Evil Queen had no words for that, other than a curl of her lip and a short, "Oh." It was true. Drowning, she had learned, was one of the worst ways to die. For those who trespassed against her, it seemed a fitting punishment at the time. Of course, had she known she would one day require the aid of a water guardian who'd apparently encountered their bodies (and perhaps their souls), she would have just beheaded them instead.

Ariel bit her lip, then inquired, "Sister, I called on you for help." Nyx shifted her gaze to the mermaid, and as their eyes met, the anger in the guardian's eyes dissipated slightly.

"What do you require?"

"Passage to Wonderland," Henry said, quickly adding, "Please," as Nyx stared at him. She tilted her head to the other side, "I know who you are."

"My name's Henry," the boy said, perhaps unnecessarily. He held out his hand to Nyx, who raised an eyebrow, but after what seemed like hours, shook his. Now she appeared amused, and released his hand- which was soaked in water.

"Yes. Henry Mills, the double-prince and Savior-child," Nyx stated, "Why do you need to go to Wonderland?"

"There is a terrible boy here," Ariel explained, "and he wants to take Henry's heart. We fear that he may succeed, if Henry stays in Storybrooke," she smiled, squeezing Henry's hand- though unlike Nyx, she didn't leave his hand coated with sea salt, "if he could go to Wonderland, for only a little while, and seek refuge there while we fight to save him, we would be very grateful."

"You would accompany him?"

"Yes," the mermaid confirmed, "He could hardly find the world alone. And we ask for passage through the well because he can't breathe in the waters between the worlds."

"I understand why you would require the well," Nyx said, and Ariel blushed. The mermaid felt foolish. It was true that Nyx and she were nominally half-sisters- or so said the legends of her race -but Nyx was far older than her. The guardian didn't seem to notice Ariel's embarrassment, however.

Regina interjected, "Good. Then we'd like to use it immediately."

"I said I understand why you would require it," Nyx stared at Regina, the anger returned to her eyes, "not that you could use it."

Ariel was horrified, "But, sister, we _need_ to-"

"You can pass through it," Nyx told Ariel, "as can the boy," she looked at Regina again, " _You_ cannot."

" _What_!?" the former Evil Queen replied, shocked, "What do you mean I can't go through?"

"You cannot pass through," Nyx repeated, as if Regina were an idiot.

"I have to go through," Regina insisted, "I have to. Wonderland is dangerous. You have to know that! I need to make sure he's protected. I have to speak to the acting monarch; he or she is the only one who would have the resources to stand a chance against Pan. And Henry, yes, he's technically a prince, but he's received _no_ political training. He would have no idea how to talk to a monarch, and the kings and queens of Wonderland can be vicious!" seeing her words were having no effect on Nyx, Regina sighed, closing her eyes. Forcing down her pride, she begged:

"Please. I won't stay, but I need to go through so I can talk to the king or queen and persuade them to protect my son. If he goes alone, I may as well kill him myself, because I will do it more quickly and more mercifully than they will."

Henry's eyes widened, but Regina was undeterred in her plea:

"Please, Nyx. I know I've done horrible things. Terrible things. I wish I could say I regret them, but you and I both know that would be a lie. I don't regret anything I did, because it brought me my son," her voice cracked on the last word, and tears sprang to her eyes, "but my son is all I have. He's asked me to try to be a hero, and I am by no means perfect," a hint of sarcasm snuck into her tone, "but I _am_ trying. This is a step on my path. I know that I will never be able to be a hero if he's unprotected, especially if I know I could have done something more to protect him. This- going to Wonderland -this is something that I can do."

"Very well," Nyx said finally, "but you must return within two hours."

"Cinderella time, right?" Regina bargained, heart in her throat. "Cinderella time" was a special unit of time among advanced magic users. It involved the use of an amulet capable of traveling between dimensions and syncing the time differences between the dimensions for the user so that the user's own timeline was not disrupted by travel to another dimension. Once the agreed upon "time" was up, however, the amulet cracked into shards, worthless.

What it would do for Regina, Henry, and Ariel was allow them to travel to Wonderland while still remaining in the Storybrooke "time zone" and not being pulled in Wonderland's; if they did not use such an amulet and instead fell into Wonderland's time zone, days would pass in Storybrooke before they returned. Regina could not allow such an event to happen, because it would alert Pan to Henry's departure. Consequently, she was adamant that Nyx's stipulations fall within Cinderella time. The last thing she wanted was to be tricked by this guardian. She'd already humiliated herself before her, and she did not want that humiliation to go in vain.

Nyx rolled her eyes, closed her empty fist, then opened it once more to reveal an amulet covered in coral, and proffered it to Regina, "Yes. Take this with you. You have two turns of the dial. Go. Before I change my mind."

"What happens if you do?" Henry asked, unable to hold back his curiosity, "I mean, please don't, but what does happen?"

Nyx smiled, and bared her teeth, "She gets to meet some of those she's drowned. I do not dispense mercy to those who do not deserve it." Without so much as a farewell, she sank into the water again. Regina, Ariel, and Henry watched as her hair disappeared into the blackness.

"Now what?" Regina asked, some of her haughtiness restored with the guardian gone.

"Now," Henry breathed, "I think we jump in," he looked to Ariel for confirmation, "Right?"

"Yes," the mermaid nodded, "Both of you. Legs over the edge, and take my hands." Henry climbed over the edge without question, as did Ariel. Regina took a little longer, but did so.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she deadpanned.

Ariel smirked at her, "Definitely not. Now deep breath, both of you! I will swim as fast as I can, but I don't know how long this will take." Then she pulled them over the edge, and they plummeted into the water. Regina didn't have time to close her eyes, and as they descended into the depths, she found she didn't want to. At first, the water was black- still the water of the well -but then, it quickly morphed into a brilliant blue. If she looked upward, she could see light reflected on the water's surface. The light was gathered into a circle, and Regina surmised that each circle must be the entryway into a world. There were hundreds of circles, but Ariel swam to the right, dodging other mermaids who spared them surprised stares. Ariel ignored them all, doggedly heading for a circle that rapidly expanded as they approached.

There was a sudden flash of light, and then everything went black.

* * *

Wendy sat on the bed in her cell, with her knees tucked up to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the brilliant night sky. The moon was full and the night was spangled with stars, but the sheriff's office was silent. David Nolan had gone home to his wife. They'd set one of the dwarves to watch her, and while they hadn't been dumb enough to let it be Sleepy, Grumpy had fallen asleep quickly enough.

The dwarf had been companionable enough while he was awake, but now Wendy was left alone to brood with her thoughts. She couldn't _believe_ that John and Michael had imprisoned her. The brothers she had known would never have done that. Uncomfortably, Wendy was reminded of her nightmares where her brothers barred the window to her, saying she was "his," that she belonged to Pan, and then they shoved her off the sill and she fell to her death. As if _she_ were the threat. And while her now grown-up brothers protested that this was supposed to protect her, somehow it felt like they imprisoned her because they feared her.

Would they ever love her again? Or was she tainted forever?

And if she was, what did she want to do about it?

That was the crux of the matter, Wendy supposed. If her brothers couldn't separate her from Pan, then she truly had no family here. The Charmings had already betrayed her, and while she knew Gretel and Grace cared for her, Pan was getting to them too (Wendy _wanted_ to believe that Slightly's interest in Gretel was genuine, but she couldn't help but fear otherwise). She had no friends in this world (even Tink was tied to Neverland).

Her family, and her friends, the only ones who didn't seem to _care_ about her past, _were_ her past. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she clenched her fists. She closed her eyes, and it was in that instant that she heard the window creak open.

Grumpy instantly rose to his feet, brandishing his axe, "I haven't been able to do much to protect this town lately, but at least I can do this!" He strode towards the window, but a voice said clearly.

"You might want to look behind you."

Making a sound akin to a growl, Grumpy turned around. Slightly grinned, then blew poppy dust in his face. Sputtering, the dwarf was powerless, then collapsed to the floor.

"Well, that was easy," the Lost Boy quipped, "Hello, Wendy!"

" _Slightly_?" Wendy gasped, "Did Gretel put you up to this?"

"No, I did," a familiar voice said smoothly. Wendy jumped to her feet, wrapping her fingers around the bars of her cell as Peter Pan swung himself smoothly through the window.

"I know how much you hate being in a cage," he said. His face was inscrutable, and had Wendy not been shocked how casual the pair were about being here, she would have been trying to figure out if there was an apology hidden somewhere in that statement.

Peter walked towards the cell, leaning close so his face was inches from hers:

"Would you like to get out of that cage, Bird?"

A bit breathless, she answered, "Yes."

"Good." Peter bent down and slipped the ring of keys out of Grumpy's belt loop. Almost casually, he sorted through them until he arrived at the key he thought would unlock the door. He could have used magic, and it would have been considerably easier to, but he didn't entirely want Wendy knowing he possessed all of his powers just yet. She'd betrayed him once, and he was fairly certain she wouldn't again, but he no longer took chances. The lock clicked, and her cell door swung open.

Wendy stood frozen for a second, unsure of what to do. Had it been anyone else, she probably would have hugged them, but she didn't want to do that with Peter. Now was not the time to let her feelings confuse her.

Peter was silent, and held out his hand to her. She took it, and it was as if time stood still as she stared at him, trying to figure out his motive, what he was feeling. The ethereal green orbs were full of a strange light, but revealed nothing to her.

The moment was broken by a muffled curse from Slightly.

Peter spun around, dropping Wendy's hand, "Slightly, what are you doing?"

"Getting Wendy's purse and the books Gretel dropped off today."

"And why are you doing that?" Peter inquired, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone.

"Because Wendy would miss them. Even though she's probably not going to go back to school for a while now, she'll want to keep up with her work. Right?" Slightly directed this question to Wendy.

"Yes," she smiled, "I would. Thank you, Slightly."

"Well, if you're done grabbing everything, you might want to hurry up," Felix's own voice came from the hallway, "That poppy dust won't last forever, and Storybrooke might be ours at night, but none of us want to be found here."

"All right, Felix, I'm done," Slightly snapped. Wendy only got a quick glance of him throwing her books into a satchel, as Peter grabbed her hand and strode own the hallway with her in tow. Felix went first as a scout, with Slightly following them as a rear guard. Both Lost Boys held their switchblades out. Pan used one of his hands to hold Wendy's firmly in his own while his other gripped his dagger.

They found a different window, this one also open. Felix confirmed that they were still unseen as he dropped through it to the ground. Pan went next, landing catlike on his feet. Wendy looked out the window doubtfully:

"I really don't know if I should-"

"Bird, we have to hurry. And I told you I would always catch you."

_Well_ , Wendy thought, _I suppose that's true_. Taking a deep breath, she climbed atop the sill, closed her eyes, then stepped forward, praying to whoever was listening that she hadn't lost her mind and was imagining this.

Peter grunted softly as he caught her, but his hands were firmly around her waist as she landed neatly in his arms. Wendy blinked and looked at him.

_Nope, definitely not a dream._

Seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil, Pan let her down, then waited for Slightly to jump as well. Once all three were safely on the ground, the four ran straight for the woods.

"But- it's pitch black!" Wendy protested.

"You've never been in dark forests before," Felix commented, the words dripping with sarcasm, "If you want to go back, no one's stopping you."

Just then, a soft light lit up a corner of the woods. Instinctively, they all- even Wendy -curled into the shadows. The shadows were safety- Neverland had taught them that being part of the shadows meant the danger couldn't see you.

"Felix, Slightly," Pan commanded, "Take Wendy home. I'm going to look at that."

"Pan-" Felix started, but Peter cut him off.

"That's not a normal light, and while I would let you escort Wendy alone, that dwarf will wake up soon and sound the alarm. Go. I'll see you soon."

With that, he melted into the shadows, but if you looked just so, you could see him moving, slowly and carefully, towards where the light had shown just moments before.

* * *

_The Neverland night was dark, as it always seemed to be after all these years, with no inclination that tonight would be different from any others. Wendy was standing at her treehouse window, watching and waiting. Normally she would be in bed by now, normally Peter would be embracing her, but tonight was different. He had disappeared earlier in the day and she hadn't seen him since. The Lost Boys were tense, and no one would tell her why. All she could see was them keeping their eyes on the horizon, as if they expected something to appear. What it was, she had no idea. Pan had long since locked the borders of Neverland since the...incident with Hook. When he himself left Neverland in search of Lost Boys, it was rare that any returned with him. Wendy wondered if he had taken some of her words about how the island was cursed to heart. She also wondered if he had any heart left._

_Before Wendy could muse more on the infernal boy, there was a massive boom. She stumbled, almost falling over, only saving herself from tumbling to the floor by fixing her grip on the windowsill. Wendy was used to storms in Neverland. She knew what thunder sounded like. That was most certainly not the sound of thunder. This was...something else. Now, she too kept her gaze on the horizon, trying to figure out what had been so powerful as to burst through Peter's borders._

_For what else could explain what had just happened? Or...was that a ship?_

_Wendy gasped. She knew that ship. She_ _**recognized** _ _that ship. Why in God's name would he choose to come back?_

_Why would Hook return?_

_Pan was evidently displeased by this development, because_ _**now** _ _thunder, lightning, and rain raged across the sky. Alarmed, she slammed her window shut. This kind of storm only meant death for Hook, and whatever unfortunate souls he'd convinced to come back with him. The ship plunged into the waves, which suddenly grew so high she was certain it would capsize. When she heard the shrieking, she clapped her hands over her ears. Those were the cries of mermaids out for blood; she hated it, she_ _**hated** _ _it. Yet when she looked out her window once more, she knew she had to do something. Shadows darted amongst the trees almost imperceptibly, Lost Boys heading towards some critical location. Instantly, Wendy descended from her treehouse and followed. What was both interesting to her and somewhat alarming was that none tried to stop her. The Lost Boys were totally unfocused on her, single-mindedly heading towards their goal...and Wendy pitied whatever goal it was. Then she realized the goal had to be important- and Peter had to be involved. Where_ _**else** _ _would he be? Something was going on here, something greater than she knew- and something that had been deliberately kept from her, she realized. Simultaneously wary, furious, and terrified, she ran after the Lost Boys. They eventually came upon a clearing, where a feeble fire sent a trail of smoke towards the raging sky. A woman dressed in a tan coat stood over the fire, letting the rain pelt her back, struggling to keep it lit. Before Wendy could call out to the strange woman- she found a hand over her mouth._

_"Say nothing," Nibs warned her, "or you might get hurt." Although the words sounded like a threat, she knew inherently that Nibs was warning her against the couple in the clearing- not him. She nodded, and he released her, hissing "Stay here, and do not move," before leaving her huddled into the underbrush._

_"We makin' smores?" an unknown voice asked, and Wendy held back the gasp that threatened to escape her throat. There, standing in the clearing with the couple, was a boy- not just any boy, but_ _**the** _ _boy, the boy Peter had been seeking for years._

_The man, balding and dressed in a dark coat said, derisively, "No. Building a signal. Help me gather some dry leaves. We need to let the Home Office know that we're here."_

The Home Office? _Wendy thought,_ What are they talking about? _She glanced in Nibs' direction, but he ignored her._

_"And what if that's not enough?" the woman in the tan coat snapped._

_Just then, a group of twelve Lost Boys swept into the clearing, leaves rustling as they arrived. Nibs was among them. Wendy continued to peer through the leaves._

_"Oh, it's enough," Felix drawled, "We're the Home Office. Welcome to Neverland." He smirked, and Wendy cringed at the sheer enjoyment in Felix's tone. She knew that tone. He planned on killing something, and he was looking forward to it._

_"The Home Office," the woman said slowly, "is a bunch of teenagers?_ " _She looked both stunned and somewhat disappointed, though what she'd expected, Wendy had no idea._

_"They're not teenagers," the young boy- the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer -said with trepidation, "They're the Lost Boys."_

_"Look at that," Felix said, almost whistling with appreciation. He was pleased, apparently, that one of the foreign trio had a brain._

_"Why do the Lost Boys want to destroy magic?" the young boy queried._

_"Who said we wanna destroy magic?" Felix drawled, still smiling darkly._

_"That was our mission," the man interrupted, holding a hand to his heart._

_Felix raised one eyebrow, amused by the man's density, "So you were told, yes," the amusement in his voice evaporated as he turned his attention to the young boy, "Now, the boy. Hand him over."_

_Sassily- and stupidly, Wendy thought -the woman in the tan coat retorted, "Not until you tell us the plan- for magic! For getting home!" She moved to stand in front of the young boy, making it obvious that she wouldn't let the Lost Boys near the couple's bargaining chip._

_"You're not getting home," Felix said simply._

_"Then you're not getting the boy," the man replied._

_Felix smiled then, and Wendy knew it was over long before he said:_

_"Of course we are."_

_Still, she couldn't help but shudder when Pan's Shadow roared down from the sky. Lightning flashed in time with its descent, making its appearance even eerier. As thunder clapped, the Shadow ripped the man's shadow out of his body harshly and without care. Then it held the man's shadow over the fire, letting the flames lick at it. The man himself began to yell as if he himself were the one getting burned alive- and with a start, Wendy realized he_ _**was.** _ _As smoke spiraled off his shadow, so did it spiral off his skin, and the stench of burning flesh threatened to make her vomit. As it was, she let out a small cry. While it went unheard by the woman in the tan coat, the young boy, and the man whose shadow had been torn from him, the Lost Boys all twitched, having become attuned to the sounds of Neverland and recognizing her. Pan's Shadow almost seemed to look at her quickly, its eyes meeting hers in the underbrush before it reached for the top of the man's shadow's head. It yanked the shadow's neck back sharply, and the real man's neck snapped with a sickening crunch. Then his body fell to the ground, still burning, while Pan's Shadow flew to the sky, its smoking, broken prize in hand._

_Utterly horrified, the woman in the tan coat shouted, "Run!" She and the young boy sprinted away._

_Felix commanded, "Get the boy."_

_Instantly, the Lost Boys sent arrows outward, and three found their mark in the woman's back. She gasped and fell to the ground, and Wendy knew it was only a matter of time before she was dead- Dreamshade would have coated the Boys' arrows tonight. The remaining Lost Boys all gave chase to the young boy, though something seemed off to Wendy. They were almost- clumsy? But they were seasoned and experienced hunters. They should have brought him down in seconds, and yet- they didn't._

_Puzzled, Wendy followed after them, running through the underbrush. Leaves whipped in her face, and she had started to slip in the mud, but she kept her eyes fixed forward, following the Lost Boys that she could see through the storm. They turned left, but then she could see the young boy himself. He wore a red scarf, and it was this garment that kept getting lit up by the lightning, and this that she kept using as a guide to run after him._

_Suddenly, he tripped- and Wendy actually saw the tree root raise off the ground to trip him. She gasped, worried that a root would reach for her as well, but nothing came for her. Instead, she almost called out as she saw a familiar arm- an arm that held her every night -reach out of the bush and grab the young boy into the bushes with a commanding:_

_"Come on!"_

_"P-" before she could finish the rest of the word, someone else's hand went out and grabbed her:_

_"Come on, Wendy," Nibs held his hand over her mouth again, "I said not to say anything!"_

_With that, he guided her back to her treehouse, the storm covering their tracks, Wendy wondering all the while what game Pan was up to now._

* * *

"Mom!" Regina heard Henry's voice calling her from the distance. Part of her wanted to sleep, but another insistent part of her _demanded_ she wake up, and wake up now. Henry needed her. She couldn't sleep, there was something important-

Then something was shaking her, and Regina coughed as light returned. She saw a soaking-wet Henry kneeling at her side, a nervous Ariel pacing back and forth. Groaning, she felt her own clothes stick to her skin, and snapped her fingers. The water disappeared, and she sighed in contentment as she was no longer wet and cold. The sun felt so _nice_ here-

Wait, sun?

Abruptly, Regina sat up, "Did we make it?" Blinking, she smiled. This world was most definitely _not_ the Storybrooke they had left behind. Green grass practically shimmered around them, flowers bloomed everywhere, and mushrooms that were seven feet tall surrounded the glade. Regina cast a glance backwards, spotting Wonderland's Well of Wonders against the backdrop of a magnificent sunset.

_More like a Pool of Wonders,_ she thought, raising an eyebrow. It was at least twelve feet around on every side, and covered by a beautiful marble pavilion.

"Regina," Ariel said, "I know we don't get along, but I have to tell you we've already wasted time."

"How much?" Regina demanded.

"Ten minutes, I think," the mermaid replied anxiously, gesturing to the amulet Regina clutched in her hand, "and I'm guessing you want to go to the palace. _That_ palace." She pointed to a white structure in the distance that appeared to be made of many turrets.

Regina jumped to her feet and narrowed her eyes, "Yes. The Chessboard Palace. Home of the Red Royals."

"The Red Royals?" Henry asked.

"Yes. Henry, I'm going to give you a quick history lesson on Wonderland," Regina said, standing up and perfunctorily educating her son as she attempted to make herself look presentable for an audience, "Unlike most worlds, Wonderland has rarely known peace. There are many rulers. A long time ago there were three sisters, the Queen of Spades, the Queen of Diamonds, and the Queen of Clubs. They were despots, but they were heiresses to a dynasty that had ruled Wonderland, or parts of it, since ancient times: the Lewyssian Dynasty. As such, they had some followers, many as insane as they. But others were not, and they flocked to the sides of other rulers: the Red King and Queen, and the Queen of Hearts."

" _Grandma_?" Henry gasped.

"Yes," Regina replied, fixing her hair, "She was quite the annoyance to the three Lewyssian Queens. I believe she may have eventually overthrown them, though it's been a while since I've been here. The other family vying for power was the Red Royals. As your grandmother no longer rules in this world, we're going to visit them. They reside in that palace. _That_ palace. Now," she stared at her son, "You are going to say absolutely nothing. I will speak to them alone."

Henry nodded, and once again, Regina whisked them away with a snap of a finger.

* * *

They appeared in the apartments of the Red Royals. To Regina's surprise, there were no petitioners present. Instead, only a stunningly beautiful blonde woman was cutting roses- red, of course -and placing them in a vase on the table.

"Your Majesty," Regina said. She didn't curtsy to the Red Queen- for this to work, the woman had to see her as an equal -but she nodded politely to her. For her part, the woman noticed this reaction, and raised an elegant eyebrow. Regina couldn't help but think she had never seen so beautiful a woman. Her thick golden hair was piled up into an elegant chignon, where a clearly priceless crown studded with at least twenty rubies was neatly set into it. Her eyes were of an unusual gray-blue color, and her lips were full and pink. Her clothing spoke volumes as to her wealth: she wore a red gown with a tight, fitted red and gold bodice, the skirt flowing out in a lovely bell-shape. Ropes of rubies matched her crown and dangling drop earrings, and the feathered sleeves of the gown served as a perfect framework to set off her many necklaces.

"Who are you? And I must remind you that it is common protocol to curtsy to _Wonderland's queen_ ," the Red Queen's voice dripped with haughtiness, but Regina raised her chin and responded with a haughty tone of her own:

"I'm not a citizen of Wonderland. I'm Queen Regina of the Enchanted Forest, and I would like to speak to you alone."

The Red Queen appraised Regina's outfit of suit jacket and pants, clearly skeptical. Realizing her error, Regina snapped her fingers, replacing her plain (or at least it would look that way to the Red Queen) mayor's outfit with one of her more conservative gowns from her days as the Evil Queen. It was a long-sleeved, deep purple creation with embroidery of sparkly black. She wore no crown, knowing that the Red Queen would find this disrespectful, but did wear glorious jewels. Beside her, a nervous Ariel wore a plain black handmaiden's dress, embroidered with Regina's personal crest. Henry fought the urge to spin around as he wore a black, miniature version of one of his grandfather's princely outfits, complete with cape and shortsword.

The Red Queen's eyes widened briefly at the display of magic, but she quickly schooled her face into an impassive stare, "The Enchanted Forest? I thought the ruler of that land was King Leopold."

Regina narrowed her eyes, "Yes, well, I married him, and he's dead."

The Red Queen laughed slightly, the sound like twinkling bells, "Is he? How...convenient for you, darling."

_Darling?_ Regina thought, _Are we friends now? I guess I must have passed the Queen's Test._

"Yes," Regina admitted, though it seemed like like a lifetime ago, "My mother certainly seemed to think so. In fact, I think you know her."

The Red Queen cocked her head, "I'm sure I don't, darling."

"I'm sure you do. In this land, she called herself the Queen of Hearts, but her first name was Cora."

"I don't understand."

"What do you mean?" Regina said.

"The Queen of Hearts is...she's like a mother to me," the Red Queen admitted, a hint of vulnerability shining through her practiced facade, "She told me her own daughter was a disappointment to her-"

"That's Mother," Regina muttered under her breath.

"-but I don't understand how that could be if you're truly Queen of the Enchanted Forest. Or how you're speaking of her as if she's dead."

Regina's lips set in a thin line, "Of that, I wish to speak with you alone. Is there a place where my companions may wait?" The Red Queen nodded:

"Tweedles!" She clapped her hands, and two identically dressed men practically ran into the room. They both had white wigs tied back in ponytails, along with white and red doublets. Red lightning marks adorned their faces, completely covering one eye.

"Take them into my sitting room and entertain them," she pointed an elegant finger at Henry and Ariel, and the two men bounded over. One took Ariel's hand, the other Henry's, and swiftly escorted them through a side door. Ariel gave Regina a panicked look, but the woman ignored it, keeping all her focus on the Red Queen.

When they were alone, Regina sighed. She stared at the Red Queen, who inquired:

"She's still alive, isn't she?" at Regina's silence, the queen added, this time softly, "Isn't she?"

Regina bit her lip. She wasn't sure how to say this. While Cora and Regina had, in their own way, loved each other, their relationship had been rocky and complicated. Apparently, Cora and the Red Queen's relationship did not share the same strain. The Red Queen clearly viewed Cora as a surrogate mother- which meant Regina had to imagine that she was telling someone else of the death of their mother. Finally, she settled on:

"I'm sorry."

The Red Queen's pretty face twisted with rage, " _No!_ No! How can this be?" She collapsed onto a nearby duvet, tears shimmering in her eyes. Her voice vicious, she asked:

"Did you do it?"

"No. She was murdered by Snow White," Regina said flatly, "Don't seek revenge for it. Too much time has passed, and it won't get you what you want."

"How do you know what I want?" the Red Queen demanded.

"Because you're like me," Regina answered, "Just- just you did what my mother wanted," she shook her head, "But you want love. You want freedom. You want those things, and you also want power. Mother understood the importance of power. You have power right now, though you appear to be having some difficulty with the love and freedom department."

The Red Queen's brow furrowed, but then she asked, "What do you mean, 'too much time has passed?' She only left Wonderland two weeks ago."

Regina almost swayed on her feet at the thought of her mother being alive only so short a time ago. She had known time ran differently between the worlds- the amulet in her hand was proof enough of that -and that Wonderland was far slower, but she hadn't realized how _much_ slower it was here.

"Darling, what is it?" the Red Queen had apparently noticed Regina's dead white face, which had stopped her disbelief.

Regina gave a brief lesson in the time differences in dimensions to the Red Queen, who was shocked.

"So if I were to go to Sherwood, back in the Enchanted Forest...much time would have passed."

"'Go back?'" Regina repeated, "So you're originally one of _my_ subjects? Then you should be bowing to me."

This comment seemed to snap the Red Queen back into reality, as she laughed, "No, I don't think so, darling. You didn't rule when I was there, and the kingdom I came from neighbored yours. Besides, I'm a queen now. You and I are equals."

"Except my mother was actually proud of you," Regina said, unable to hold back a trace of bitterness.

There was a long pause, and the Red Queen answered, "I'm not so sure that's true, darling. She…often expressed her feelings about my marriage to the Red King. She felt that I would be a better ruler without him, one who was free to use magic without his disapproval."

"I know that my mother's probably also suggested you kill him to make your life easier, and you don't have the stomach for it yet, no matter what he's done," Regina said flatly.

"He's become unfaithful to me," the Red Queen whispered, looking away, "Not that I care, of course. We consummated our marriage, but I have no desire to sleep with him again."

"Not even for an heir?" Regina inquired, "Or is that not part of your duty?" at the Red Queen's silence, Regina pressed, "I have a solution to your problem."

"You do?"

"Yes. My son," the Red Queen blanched, but Regina continued unabashed, "In my world, there is a powerful, immortal being trying to kill my son. I need to keep him safe. I was hoping to leave him here with you," she took a deep breath, and added, "I'm like you. I know when you're in a loveless marriage. I'm giving you a built-in solution. Protect my son, and he can serve as your heir, and you won't need to sleep with your husband ever again."

"The king won't agree to another's son succeeding him," the Red Queen protested.

"But that doesn't matter, does it?" Regina riposted, "If you're going to kill him anyway, which I'm guessing you'll end up doing, he won't exactly be around to object."

"I don't know if I can kill him," the Red Queen said. She looked a bit perturbed by the prospect.

Regina laughed at that, "Of course you can, if my mother viewed you as a daughter. You must have done _something_ to give her that confidence in you. Has she given you perfumes?"

"Perfumes?"

"Or perhaps a comb?"

"Yes, she did give me a comb," the Red Queen was blatantly suspicious, "Why?"

"Can I see it?" Regina pressed.

"I suppose, but you should be forewarned that it has very…sharp spikes."

Regina laughed, "Is _that_ what she told you?"

"She also said that sometimes a queen requires a smaller weapon," the Red Queen admitted, gingerly unwrapping a red velvet cloth and passing it to Regina. Inside, nestled in the very center, was a comb made of solid gold, with the top lined in white pearls.

"White pearls," Regina observed, "Discreet. This comb could belong to any noblewoman- certainly not the Red Queen, who is known for her rubies. It's far too simple for you."

The Red Queen inclined her head, "Perhaps, but she gave it to me anyway."

Regina said, "And she did so knowing that you would never wear it, ensuring that the poison coating its tips didn't kill her adopted daughter."

The Red Queen gasped, "How did you know about the poison?"

Regina smiled darkly, "My mother had many secrets, but she taught me this one. A poison-tipped comb," she trailed off, "One that could kill with barely a scratch. Pearls, designed for someone with what others might say 'simple and elegant' taste. She gave me one too, and I used it to try to kill Snow White."

" _Try_ to kill?"

Regina snorted, "Long story. Point being, my mother gave you the perfect murder weapon. Your king's unfaithful to you and has been sleeping with different noblewomen, more than one of which probably has a comb just like this. She probably takes out the comb before bed, of course, leaving it on the bedside table. But what if your husband and this woman get into a lover's spat? What if she takes the comb and scratches him with it? The poison would kill him, of course, and she would deny it, but how could anyone believe her? The comb, after all, was _right there_."

The Red Queen was deep in thought, "And how would we place this comb?"

"Well, where does he conduct his trysts? And when?"

The Red Queen took Regina's hand in her own, "Come with me."

Regina did her best not to gape as the Red Queen led her past the throne room, into her bedroom, and walked towards a massive mirror inlaid in the wall next to her bed. The floor was made to resemble- what else? -a chessboard, numerous black and white tiles covering the space. The queen stepped from one tile to the next, her heels clacking on the ground as she carefully executed a specific pattern. Regina realized with a jolt that the pattern was some type of password, because as the Red Queen finished, stepping on the last black tile with a final flourish, the mirror extended outwards and slid to the left, revealing a great staircase lit only by torches.

"After you, darling," the Red Queen jerked her head to the opening, and Regina swallowed her trepidation and walked into the darkness.

_This is for Henry_ , she reminded herself, _All for Henry. Besides, my own fortresses had enough evil things in them. What can possibly be here that I haven't already seen?_

Still, Regina trusted no one anymore, and so she grabbed the other woman's elbow and pulled her in the tunnel with her, "We go together. I'll help you, but I won't do your dirty work for you." The Red Queen frowned, but said nothing. Instead, the two women descended into the tunnel in silence, the only noise around them the flicker of flames and the clattering of their heels. They took a few turns, with what appeared to be a glass window occasionally cut into the stone walls. The windows allowed them to view different rooms in the palace otherwise unseen- they were one-way mirrors. Regina smiled bitterly- this had to be her mother's influence.

At last, the Red Queen stopped before a mirror. She let her hand rest on it, her bright red nails a massive contrast against the glass. Regina walked beside her and gazed into the room, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

On the other side of the mirror was a rather plain bedroom. The walls were painted red, but the furnishings were sparse- a large bed, a bedside table, and two doors. If Regina had to guess, one would lead to an en suite bathroom, and the other to another set of tunnels that led to the king's apartments. Clothes were tossed on the floor, and on the bed a man with gray hair was obviously enjoying himself- if his groans were any indication -with a brunette woman, who squeaked every so often.

"She sounds like a mouse," Regina observed.

The Red Queen replied, "She looks like one too. Her name is Lady Dorothea Galumph," she smiled sadly at Regina, trying to mask her hurt, "Perhaps that's what I should start calling her. 'Lady Dormouse.'"

Regina shook her head, "You're not going to be calling her anything except a murderess, and then you're going to be calling her dead."

At the Red Queen's startled glance, Regina raised her eyebrows, "You didn't think she was just going to walk away, did you? Or did my mother not get to that part in your education before she left Wonderland?

"If you want to maintain power, you _cannot_ let it be known that you are the one who killed the Red King. You need a scapegoat, and that's her. Lady Dormouse here could discover a love letter the Red King has written to another one of his lovers- one she didn't know about -and fly into a jealous rage. She could scratch the king, and then she could smash the bathroom mirror, taking the shards and stabbing him to death. In the meantime, you hear the shrieks from the king's apartments, command the guards to open his secret door, and send them down to discover Lady Dormouse with the corpse of the king.

"Obviously, Lady Dormouse will protest her innocence, but how can she? The guards found her at the scene of the crime. You can't allow such a murder to go unpunished," Regina was somewhat breathless as she described the plan, unable to deny that the part of her that was still the Evil Queen was enjoying this, "You'll execute her, and bring my son out of the shadows as your heir. He was the son of you and the Red King, spirited away to the Enchanted Forest to keep him safe until the rival royal families were disposed of."

"But anyone could tell he's not our son!" the Red Queen protested, "He looks nothing like us, and the Lewyssians have been dead for years. The Queen of Hearts left only two weeks ago; her followers would not come to my side."

"Ah, but Henry has her blood, and yours, and the Red King's. Or he will, anyway," Regina answered, "Another reason we need Lady Dormouse to stab the king: we need some of his blood. You and I will have to provide some too, though it will hurt much less for us-"

"You want to do blood magic?" the Red Queen's eyes widened.

"I want to give him his birthright, and give you the chance I didn't have. Now," Regina said calmly, "will you go first, or will I?"

* * *

_When they reached the foot of her treehouse, Wendy threw Nibs' hands off her._

_"Tell me," she whispered, "Tell me what is going on." The Lost Boy looked at her like she'd lost her mind:_

_"Wendy, you_ _**know** _ _what's going on. He's here. The Boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer is here, at last." Nibs pulled his hood back, staring at her earnestly. His eyes were hopeful and resigned- hopeful that things could finally go back to normal, things could change, but resigned that there would be blood needed to do it._

_"He can't be," Wendy gasped, "After all this time?" Somehow, she'd thought nothing would ever change. Her old life was gone forever; she'd realized that long ago. But she supposed she'd come to the conclusion that The Boy would never come. She would spend eternity living on a cursed island with only an insane boy-king and his loyal followers for company. It would always be cruel and terrible and anyone who defied Pan would_ _**die,** _ _gruesomely, miserably, and she would watch. She was a witness to hell, and if one day God asked her to testify to it, she would say yes, she was there. She stood by while fallen angels ran roughshod over an entire world; she cried as they worshipped a demon for their king; she slept in the devil's arms every night. That was her past, her present, and her future, eternal and immutable._

_Yet someone had disrupted that. Someone new had fallen into hell, quite by accident, a human child who had no idea what he'd just stumbled into._

_"The Boy. He doesn't know, does he? That's why you didn't want me to say anything. Pan's testing him, and if The Boy heard me, it would have ruined the test," Wendy postulated, "Though why he needs a test, I don't know. Pan_ _**knows** _ _it's him. He knows…" she trailed off, sliding to her knees. She knelt at the base of the tree, the storm soaking her nightgown straight through. Her wet hair was strung around her face, and she wasn't sure whether she wanted to burst into sobs or break into laughter._

_"Wendy," Nibs sighed. He removed his own cloak, wrapping it around her as he sat next to her. The warmth it provided was hollow, as his cloak was soaked too, but she appreciated the gesture._

_"Tell me something else, Nibs," Wendy demanded, "Tell me: is it worth it? Is spilling that Boy's blood worth_ _**this** _ _?" she gestured to the island around them, which was still being pelted by the thunderstorm. The ground was slick with mud, and the few remaining animals on the island let out eerie calls in response to the thunderclaps._

_"Yes," the Lost Boy answered immediately, then added under his breath, "It has to be."_

_"And what if it isn't?" Wendy asked, "What if it's not worth it, Nibs? Then what are we? Murderers?" Tears were falling down her cheeks, but she was oblivious to them. She was becoming desensitized to her own weeping, much like she was getting desensitized to the constant deaths._

_"It is worth it," Nibs insisted, "and we're not murderers. We're just- we're doing what we need to survive-"_

_"We could survive just fine if we went home!" Wendy hiccuped, "Then we wouldn't need to survive. We could just live."_

_"Wendy," Nibs said seriously, "This_ _**is** _ _home._ _**Neverland** _ _is home," he shook his head, then spread his own arms wide to show her his cloak and various weapons, "What else can we be? What else could the world do for us? What could_ _**any** _ _world do for us? I'm not a schoolboy. You're not the girl who waited at the window. I could no more sit at a desk and write an essay than you could play pirates with your brothers! I'm a Lost Boy, and you're-"_

_"What, Nibs? I'm what?" Wendy prompted. Nibs opened his mouth, but was spared having to answer her question by two green streaks- they could only be Peter and Henry -flying across the sky. The pair looked up to watch them pass, zigzagging lightning bolts and whooping with joy._

_After the streaks had disappeared, descending towards a patch of forest near the old Indian encampment, Nibs stood and gently took his cloak from Wendy, "I have to go, and so do you." He swung it over his shoulders, even though it could hardly be helpful against the storm. It was mostly symbolic, Wendy knew; a sign of his allegiance. She was silent as he held out a hand to help her to her feet, silent as he escorted her inside her treehouse, and silent as- for the first time in years -her treehouse door locked behind him._

* * *

In the end, at Regina's nod, the Red Queen held out her hand. A blast of wind- interestingly, her magic appeared to be colorless, which Regina found intriguing, as the color of magic often reflected traits of its user -came forward and smashed the mirror. Hundreds of shards flew all over the bedroom, and as the queens stepped in, glass cracked beneath their feet. The Red King stared in them at shock, pulling himself off the terrified noblewoman, who drew the sheets around her.

"Anastasia? What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you the same question, Redmond," the Red Queen said sharply, "though I can see exactly what is going on. I have for quite some time." She walked around the bed, gazing at her unfaithful husband, "Though I must admit, I wonder why you asked me to marry you at all when you were going to be sleeping with half the court." She cast a disdainful glance at Dorothea, who had the grace to look ashamed.

"I told you that I wanted a queen who had a drive to be more than she was. That is what you are. I also told you that sometimes, love is not enough. Is it so outlandish that I would want a queen for something other than love, and look for love elsewhere?" the Red King inquired. Regina raised an eyebrow. She would never have guessed she would meet a man who managed to be both an urbane and eloquent debater while naked.

"A drive to be more than I am," the Red Queen murmured, "I remember." She turned away from the Red King for a moment, then spun back around to face him, "I still have that drive, you know. I want to be more than a woman with an adulterous husband, who is routinely _betrayed_ by someone who simpers and calls herself her friend." Dorothea's cheeks reddened.

The Red King rolled his eyes, "You are queen, Anastasia. What more do you want?"

At that comment, it seemed as though something in the Red Queen snapped. She whirled around, ripping the pearl comb out of its cloth, and stalked towards her husband:

"I want to be a queen who has _loyalty._ I want to be a queen who has _love._ I want _Will!_ " she shrieked, "and I can't _have_ him with you alive!" With that, she took the comb and raked it down the Red King's cheek. Raised cuts appeared, and he touched his fingers to them in disbelief. He stared at his fingers, then back at his wife. Then he crumpled over, dead, his body collapsing over his lover's.

The woman started to scream when Regina held up a hand, silencing and freezing her with magic, "Enough. None of that from you, Dormouse." She nodded to the Red Queen, who seemed to be in a state of shock that she had actually killed her husband. Nonetheless, the Red Queen opened the door to adjoining bathroom, then waved her hand. Shards of glass flew into the main bedroom, with the larger ones embedding themselves in the Red King's body. Each shard was accompanied by a sickening squishing noise and a burst of blood.

Seeing the Red Queen was still stunned, and that according to her amulet, they needed to get this over with fast, Regina jumped in, "All right, turn him over." The two queens rolled his body over, and the Red Queen added some more shards into his chest for good measure.

"Now for Dormouse," Regina pointed at the frozen noblewoman, and blood spatters painted her body. Cuts littered Dorothea's hands, with a large shard finding its way into her right fist. In her left, a love letter materialized.

"Quickly, quickly!" Regina urged the Red Queen, "We don't have much time to make this believable. We're going to go upstairs now, conduct the spell, and I'm going to unfreeze her. We'll go to the king's apartments, she'll scream, and the guards will down the passage and find her like this. Do you understand me?" The Red Queen, for someone who was still in a state of abject horror, also seemed to have a remarkable sense of self-preservation kick in:

"Yes, darling. I understand perfectly." Almost robotically, she took some of her husband's blood, conjuring it into a glass vial. Then Regina snapped her fingers, sending them back into the queen's apartments. The Red Queen managed to close the mirror behind them, but otherwise moved slowly, trying to process the ramifications of what she had just done on the advice of a woman she'd never met.

Regina, meanwhile, was frantic to finish the spell. They only had a half hour left. Just a half hour. The Red Queen- or Anastasia, was that her name? -appeared incapable of conducting complex magic right now. Gritting her teeth, Regina made her way over to a large cabinet that could only hold her magical supplies. She threw open the doors, grabbing vials with abandon. Then she took a knife and haphazardly sliced her hand open, squeezing the wound until several drops entered one vial.

"You- Anastasia- come here!" she commanded. The Red Queen obeyed, and Regina cut her hand too, drawing the Wonderland monarch's blood into a second vial. Without much thought, she took the vial of the Red King's blood from the Red Queen's other hand, and mixed the vials together with recklessly.

"I killed him," the Red Queen said. Regina ignored her.

" _I killed him_ ," the queen repeated, as if she thought Regina hadn't heard her, and that by repeating her words, she would somehow summon Regina's condemnation. However, the condemnation never came. Instead, Regina summarized the details of her plan:

"This is how this is going to work. We are going to mix this blood with Henry's. He has your blood, and the Red King's, so he's a valid heir for you. He'll also have mine, and that makes him heir to the Queen of Hearts. Her followers will come to you. But you need to remember a story, and this is _important_ , Anastasia, and if you want your precious Will, you need to _remember this_ : you are the illegitimate daughter of the Queen of Hearts. That's why you were common and poor when you came here from Sherwood, because she gave you up. But when she came here, she helped you, and she taught you magic, and you married the Red King, finally fulfilling the future she'd always wanted for you.

"You had Henry with the king years ago, but sent him away to the Enchanted Forest to live with me since you were still fighting with the Lewyssian dynasty. You and the king hoped to have another heir in the meantime, but since he's now dead, along with the Queen of Hearts, you've summoned your only son and heir back to Wonderland to claim the titles of Red Prince and Prince of Hearts. Henry will represent a united Wonderland, people will support him, and you will take care of him!" Regina's face was inches from the Red Queen's.

"But no one will remember Redmond and I having a child," the Red Queen protested, "No one will remember us being married for that long. Married only two years, and I _killed_ him-"

"Pull yourself together!" Regina snapped, "My mother liked you, so you've got to have _some_ spine in you. Look at it positively: he was a cheater, he kept you from your true love, and now he's dead. _We_ killed him," she smashed her hand against the Red Queen's bleeding one, "and now _we_ are sisters- magically, anyway -and that is why I, Henry's dear aunt, raised him in the Enchanted Forest for you. That is why you will save him for me. And that is how you now have an open path to get your true love back."

"You're saying I should be thanking you," the Red Queen noted, her head cocked to the side. The pain of the cut- and Regina's tirade -seemed to have stemmed her hysteria.

"I did you a favor, and my mother would agree," Regina retorted, "My mother would also agree that loose ends need to be tied up. Pour this into the main waterways of Wonderland," she pressed a large crystal flask into the Red Queen's uninjured hand, "it's a false memory. Put in into the waters, the populace will drink it, and they won't know the difference."

"But how will it work? It's just one bottle!" the Red Queen asked, then folded her arms, "Besides, how will _I_ remember?"

"Let's just say I'm a bit of an expert at memory spells," Regina muttered, checking her amulet- twenty minutes left, "Henry!"

"Tweedles," the Red Queen clapped, wincing at the pain in her hand. She put a practiced, beatific smile on her face, unwilling to let her unexpected guests see her nerves, and only her trembling left hand revealed a hint of any emotions brewing beneath the surface.

"Mom?" Henry entered the room alone (Ariel was apparently determined to spend as little time in Regina's presence as possible, and the Tweedles had elected to stay behind to see if she needed anything).

Regina stared at him, trying to memorize every detail of her son. He stood tall and proud in his black attire, which set off his black hair- though his hair wasn't neat. It was always, always, scruffy, no matter what she did to it. His blue eyes were bright with concern, and she smiled. He always wanted others to be happy. He gave of himself first. It was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

He was so much better than her.

He deserved so much better than her.

And she would make sure he was safe. She might never have the chance to be a hero in his eyes- she very well might never see him again -but she would ensure he was safe.

"Mom?" Henry queried, eyebrows furrowed.

"I love you, Henry," Regina said, to which the puzzled boy replied, "I love you too, Mom. What's going on?"

"I love you, Henry," tears filled Regina's eyes, "I love you. I'm sorry I couldn't be a hero for you, but please know I tried. And even if you don't remember…and you won't remember…I hope some part of you knows how much I love you." Before he had a chance to protest, she summoned him to her with a flick of her hand, forced some of the liquid from the flask down his throat, cut his hand, and poured the vial of blood into the open wound.

A long moment passed. Henry's eyes flickered with confusion, but then he smiled. He looked at Regina and said:

"Thank you for taking such good care of me, Aunt Regina."

Regina covered her sob by squeezing his hand, "Of course, Henry. I would do anything for you," wiping a tear from her eyes, she shouted, "Ariel! It's time to go. We have fifteen minutes."

By the time the mermaid walked into the room, the Red Queen had fully collected herself. She smiled at Henry, and said:

"Come along, darling. We should see your father." She led their group down a hallway, turned left, then entered the king's apartments. They were a match for the queen's, with a throne room, bedroom, and sitting room situated around a chessboard floor. His room, however, lacked the mirror for his secret passageway. Regina supposed it must have been located elsewhere, and flicked her eyes around the chamber, wondering where it could be.

"How strange," the Red Queen cast a glance at Regina, "He seems to be gone." Regina subtly flicked her wrist, and screams suddenly filled the air, though they were muffled by the doors in front of a glass display case, with dozens of jewels contained inside.

"Guards!" the Red Queen commanded. Obediently, they rushed into the king's chamber.

"Knock open the passage."

The men looked at each other uneasily, perturbed that the queen not only _knew_ of the passage, but also that she was demanding they enter it. They were well-aware of what the king used it for, and hardly wanted to turn his wrath upon them- or worse, spoil the queen's reputation as an utterly innocent wife.

Seeing their reluctance, the queen narrowed her eyes, " _Now_. Don't you hear the _screaming_?"

The guards evidently decided the king's safety was more important than the queen's reputation, and they pushed against the display case until it shattered, jewels falling to the floor, and the stone behind the case gave way. Boots thundered down the steps, with cries of dismay filling the air.

"The king!"

"The king is dead!"

"She killed him! The queen killed him!"

The guards were dragging a blubbering Lady Dormouse up the stairs. As she emerged from the staircase, she cast wild eyes at Regina and the Red Queen. Regina gestured for the Tweedles to take Henry outside the room, and though they normally only answered the Red Queen, they obeyed immediately. Ariel clapped her hands over mouth, watching the drama unfold.

"They murdered him!" Lady Dormouse shrieked at the top of her lungs, "They murdered him! Why aren't you _listening_ to me?"

"Don't be silly, darling," the Red Queen answered, "I was with my sister in my rooms. We just came to visit the king, and heard you screaming. Though I must ask, darling, what _are_ you doing wrapped in a sheet?"

" _You_ are a liar!" Lady Dormouse insisted, her voice full of venom.

"And you just accused an anointed queen of murder," Regina riposted, "That's a massive accusation." She raised her eyebrows, disapproval emanating from her in waves.

"Guards? What is going on?" the Red Queen inquired, hands clasped before her waist, as if she had no idea whatsoever. Regina had to admit she was impressed by the Red Queen's acting skills.

The captain of the guard took a knee before her, "Your Majesty…the king is dead." He hung his head in dismay, unable to meet his queen's eyes.

The Red Queen gasped, "No!" A hand flew to her heart, and Regina reached out to "steady" her (the Red Queen gave an excellent imitation of a person about to faint). The guards were puzzled by the presence of the foreign queen, but were too distracted by the king's demise to wonder at her presence and the Red Queen's referring to the woman as her sister.

"Forgive us, Majesty, but we found him…there's a room, in the passageways, a secret room, and the king- we found him there with Lady Dorothea. It appears she killed him with pieces of a mirror."

"With what motive?" the Red Queen shook off Regina's hand, recovered from her "dizziness."

The guard grimaced, "She saw a letter he wrote to another woman. Forgive us, Majesty-"

"It's all right; I don't blame you, of course. You weren't the ones in bed with another woman," the Red Queen shook her head, somehow managing to look devastated at her husband's betrayal, furious someone had killed him, and determined to obtain vengeance with a disturbing sort of calm all at once, "Now, please. Put some clothes on the murderer and take her to the dungeon."

"YOU are the murderer!" Lady Dormouse insisted. She spat at the Red Queen's feet.

The Red Queen stared at Lady Dormouse for a long moment, then abruptly backhanded her across the face, "How _dare_ you! You betray me, sleep with my husband, then accuse _me_ of murdering him? When I was reuniting with my family, no less? Take her away! I want her to rot in the dungeons and never to see her face again."

The guards began to drag a shouting Lady Dormouse of the room, when Regina laid a hand on the Red Queen's arm.

"She can't stay alive. No loose ends, remember?" Regina whispered. The Red Queen swallowed, then inquired, her mask now fully back in place:

"I suppose you're right, darling. What would the Queen of Hearts suggest?"

"Mother would say a liar doesn't deserve her tongue, and a traitor doesn't deserve her head," Regina said decisively.

"Guards!" the Red Queen called, "I changed my mind. I do want to see her face. One more time." She strode over to the sobbing noblewoman and stared at her again, then spoke to the assembled guards:

"You found her next to the king's body. You heard the things she said against me. The _horrible, untruthful, vile_ things. She is a liar, a traitor, and a murderer who doesn't deserve to breathe," the Red Queen paused, then stated:

"Off with her head."

* * *

Regina didn't stay for the execution. Although she would have liked to- she hadn't been sure the Red Queen would go through it -there simply wasn't enough time. Regina merely hugged Henry goodbye, ignoring her heartbreak as he made her promise to visit, kissed the Red Queen on both cheeks, then snapped her fingers, transporting Ariel and her to Wonderland' s Well of Wonders. It was peaceful as ever, the water shimmering against the sunlight.

"Let's go, mermaid," Regina grabbed Ariel's hand, pulling her towards the Well, but Ariel threw it off:

"You're just going to let that innocent woman die?" her eyes were wide with disbelief, though Regina thought Ariel _really_ should have known better at this point. Consequently, she snorted:

"She wasn't exactly innocent."

"That's not the point, Regina!" Ariel insisted, "She doesn't deserve to _die!_ You heard her! She was in love with the king! And that other woman…the Red Queen…you've ruined her, too."

Regina pursed her lips, "I haven't ruined anyone. The Red Queen always had that inside her. She was always going to get her hands dirty. I just made it happen a little faster. And who knows?" she shrugged, "Maybe she'll find her true love. Isn't that what you always wanted, Ariel? _Your_ true love? Would you begrudge her finding that?"

"I never killed anyone to do it!" the mermaid said. Her face was full of righteous fury, and her complexion was almost as red as her hair. If they were anywhere else, Regina probably would have laughed.

"Not all of us are so fortunate," the Evil Queen replied, "That's the real difference between heroes, and villains. Heroes have what they want handed to them. Villains fight to get it. But the thing about fights, mermaid, is that they get messy, and blood gets spilled. You heroes wouldn't know about that," she smiled faintly, then shook her head, her expression growing dark, "but that doesn't matter. All that matters…all that mattered…was Henry. You knew that going in. Now, you promised to get me home."

"Regina," Ariel started, and this time she sounded almost pitying, but Regina cut her off:

"We have two minutes. Pool. _Now_."

Without further ado, she grabbed Ariel's hand and jumped into the water.

* * *

This time, Regina didn't stare at the bright circles. She didn't care to ponder which world lay beyond each circle. Rather, she clutched Ariel's hand in one hand, Nyx's amulet in the other, struggling not to sob. The tears themselves didn't bother her- Ariel was swimming tenaciously toward the circle that led to Storybrooke, and her tears would be unnoticed -but if she openly cried, she'd lose her breath, her lungs would fill with water, and she'd drown. Then she definitely would never see Henry again, and that was something she couldn't allow.

Even if Regina knew she most likely would never see him again, she wanted the possibility to exist, however slim.

When they broke the surface, they were still inside the Well. The waters were black, and it reeked of something dank rotten. Idly, Regina wondered if there were dead animals in the Well. She'd never thought to check.

She was startled out of her reverie by Nyx, who rose out of the water without Ariel's summons. Her face- which was as unsettling as Regina remembered it -was now only a foot away from her own. Nyx's black hair stretched out through the water, rippling in time with the seaweed wrapped within it as if it was almost alive- and itching to wrap itself around Regina's throat.

"You've made it back with only seconds left," Nyx nodded to the amulet, and it ticked twice before cracking into a hundred pieces.

"Yes," the former Evil Queen acknowledged, "We were able to save my son," she swallowed, forcing down her tears, "Thank you, Nyx." It was hard for her to thank anyone, but she hoped that the guardian would sense how difficult this was for her. She didn't exactly expect pity from Nyx, but she thought the guardian might understand how hard it was for Regina to bow before anyone who had helped her.

"I didn't do it for you," Nyx said.

"I know that. I'm thanking you anyway."

The guardian was utterly unmoved by Regina's tone. She merely waved her hand, and the cyclone that had originally brought her to them two hours before lifted Regina and Ariel up and out of the Well. The former Evil Queen and the mermaid climbed onto dry land. Both were soaking wet, and their clothes clung to them. The night was cold already, and the water was only making it worse. If they weren't careful, they would get sick- though Regina found it hard to be sicker than she already felt.

Nyx nodded to Ariel, who smiled, "Thank you, sister." Then the guardian's gaze turned to Regina:

"Don't ask for my help again."

With that, she disappeared in a swirl of water.

Regina sighed. As much as she hated interacting with Nyx, at least she had served her purpose. Henry was safe in Wonderland. He would have a good life. While she hoped she could get back to him, if she didn't…at least she had ensured his safety, and his happiness. Pan would never find him. Pan never could, especially not after she did what she felt was the worst part of her plan:

"Ariel. I appreciate your assistance tonight," Regina slipped one hand into her pocket and stepped towards the mermaid, who warily took a step back. Leaves cracked beneath her feet, and an owl hooted in the background.

Nevertheless, Ariel said, "You're welcome, Regina." Regina smiled at her, and it caught the mermaid off-guard. This time, when Regina came towards her, Ariel let the former Evil Queen embrace her- a tiny vial gripped uncapped and unseen in her hand.

"I really mean it. Thank you for all your help," Regina gripped Ariel tighter, "but sadly for you, you can't remember it."

"What are you- Regina- Stop!" Ariel's cries were cut off as the other woman shoved the vial into her mouth, plugged her nose, and covered her mouth. Ariel struggled, but eventually, her need to breathe outweighed her resistance to swallowing the contents of the vial. Unwillingly, she gulped down the liquid, then gasped for air as Regina removed her hand. Satisfied, Regina then snapped her fingers before the mermaid could open her eyes, transporting her to her beloved Prince Eric.

All Ariel would remember was a really bad hangover.

Now…as for her own memories…

Regina uncorked the last vial in her pocket, staring at the blue liquid within.

This was it. This would take away her knowledge of where Henry was, who he was with, how to get to him. Everything. If she drank this, she might never get to her son again. But did that matter? Did any of it matter, if only he was safe?

_Villains fight to get what they want. I'm sorry, Henry, but I want your safety more than anything else._

Regina took a deep breath.

And downed the vial.

* * *


	24. Through the flames I see them coming, through the flames I see them longing. They have come to end the living, unforetold and unforgiving...

It was nearly 2 in the morning by the time Wendy heard the front door slam. She spun around and ran towards the door, practically tripping over a sleeping Lost Boy. She was greeted by the decidedly very rare sight of Peter Pan looking stunned. For once, his face was not pulled into a self-satisfied smirk, his eyes full of unwavering confidence. Instead, he bore a peculiar expression- not troubled, exactly, but certainly surprised.

"What happened?" Wendy asked. Pan's eyes flicked to her, and he shook his head.

"Not here. Upstairs," with that, he himself began to stride up the staircase, beckoning for Wendy to walk with him. Almost as an afterthought, he said softly, "Felix." Peter's second reappeared at his summons, making his entrance from the living room adjacent to the entry hall. Tinkerbell stood behind him, half hidden behind a pillar.

Pan raised an eyebrow, and the fairy hurriedly explained, "Felix came and got me. He figured that once the Charmings realized Wendy was missing, I would be next, and it was safer for me here." There was a long silence, but finally Peter said:

"You may as well come too." Tink let out the breath he'd been holding, and she and the Lost Boy followed Neverland's king to the second floor. He led them to the master suite. It consisted of a large, spacious bedroom with a king-sized bed, scarlet curtains, and a massive wardrobe. There was a door to the side, which Wendy could only assume led to a connected bathroom. All in all it was not something she would have pegged for Peter's taste, but then she realized that he would hardly take any _other_ room. He couldn't, not if he was trying to reassert his power with the old Lost Boys and assure it to the new. He was the master, he was the king, and as such, this room, and the privacy it afforded, was exclusively his.

Rather gallantly, Peter gestured for the two girls to enter before him. He jerked his head, and even Felix stepped in before his leader. It was a strange switch in the pecking order, but it made sense when Peter locked the door behind him. He would leave nothing to chance.

"What is it, Peter?" Wendy asked, still perturbed by her sight of him after he'd returned. Now, though, he seemed slightly more in control, or at least in control of his emotions.

"It seems that the Evil Queen has learned a new trick. Like us, she has learned not only to reset the board, but to change it entirely," Pan glanced at Felix, whose own face was gravely serious. Tink, meanwhile, was staring back and forth from Pan to Felix, getting increasingly nervous. Wendy's spine prickled with unease. She didn't know which side she was on anymore. Pan was out to kill an innocent boy, but he was doing it to save hundreds of lost souls. The Charmings were out to protect that boy, but they'd already cast her as a villain when she'd done nothing more than get swept up in an impulsive kiss. Meanwhile, the would-be murderer had freed her, and the would-be protectors had imprisoned her. She didn't want to harm anyone, but what was worse: harming an innocent boy who'd befriended her, or harming others who she'd never know? The dilemma made her head swim.

Pan, it appeared, had already decided Wendy was on his side; he wouldn't have set her free otherwise, never mind said, "like us."

_Like us._

_Like us._

_Like us._

The words echoed in Wendy's mind unbidden, but she was snapped out of her daze by Tink's query:

"Change the board? Peter...you can't mean..." the fairy trailed off in disbelief.

Pan raised an eyebrow, "Of course I mean that. You, of all people, should know that. I did it once," he let out a disbelieving laugh, "I'm somewhat impressed they managed it, but the question remains: where did they go?"

"What are you talking about?" Wendy interjected. She was relatively familiar with Neverland metaphors, of course, but she'd never heard about "changing the board." "Resetting," or causing Pan to reconsider his puppeteering, yes, but "changing?"

"It appears that the Charmings have left Storybrooke," Felix said slowly, the exasperation obvious in his voice.

"Not all the Charmings," Peter interjected, "Just one. The Evil Queen, Ariel, and Henry disappeared into the Wishing Well earlier this evening. I'd have followed, but they left with the help of Nyx. I was given the power to independently cross worlds using the stars, not dependent on a 'guardian' and using water," he scoffed at the very notion, then added, "It took some time, but Regina returned with the mermaid alone."

"They left Henry alone in another _world_?" Wendy gasped. In a way, it was ingenious. There were countless worlds. Peter could spend forever searching for Henry, and never find him.

"Oh, I'm sure he's not alone," Pan noted, "It's just a matter of who she'd trust enough to leave him with."

"Her mother's dead," Tink pointed out, "she couldn't leave him with anyone in the Enchanted Forest. The few people left there still hate her. Maybe using her heart would tell us if _anyone_ would help an Evil Queen."

"I've already checked," Peter said smoothly, "She removed Henry's, Ariel's, and her own memories. The only things she remembers are that he's safe in another world and has no memory of her, and that she herself removed her memory of where and who she left him with to ensure his safety. She did all this without telling anyone in Storybrooke," he gave credit where credit was due with an incline of his head, "Clever. Very clever."

"What are we going to do?" Felix asked, instantly getting to the core of the situation.

"Get the Heart of the Truest Believer, of course," Pan smirked, "Henry and his mother disappeared by the Wishing Well. I suppose that's this world's Well of Wonders. Henry, however, isn't immortal. He's very much a human. He can only hold his breath for so long; there's only so many worlds he can go to from here while still living. By my count, they would be Oz, the Land Without Color, Wonderland, and the Enchanted Forest itself. The Enchanted Forest we can discard outright. The land's completely unstable without its rulers- who don't seem to realize that, considering they're still here -and if Regina were to even step foot there, the remaining denizens would kill her immediately."

"And Henry? Technically, he's a prince there. Emma is heiress to the throne, but Henry follows her as next in line. Would they kill their prince? Especially one from the Charming Dynasty?" Wendy asked doubtfully.

"They don't even know who Henry is," Tinkerbell pointed out, "If he shows up with Regina, they'd kill him regardless. If he shows up without her and claims to be himself, the remaining citizens of the Enchanted Forest may be so infuriated that the Charmings have yet to return to aid them they'd _still_ kill him."

Pan nodded, pleased with Tink's assessment, "We can also ignore the Land Without Color. They prefer science to magic, but unlike here- excluding Storybrooke -magic _can_ operate in the Land Without Color. Still, Regina wouldn't leave her son there either. For magic to exist there, there must be someone to control and conduct the magic. She didn't stay, so there is no one in that world to do so- it's not like the populace would. That leaves us with Oz and Wonderland."

At the mention of Oz, Felix's expression darkened, "Pan. I don't ask you for much, and I'll follow you almost anywhere, but don't make me go there."

Pan's eyes narrowed, "Felix, you're my second. I need you by my side." His words were a dangerous warning, but Felix repeated, "Don't make me go to Oz. I'll go, if you force me. But I'm asking you to take someone else there. Don't make me go back." He and Peter stared at each other, and Pan must have recognized the plea in his eyes, for at last he said:

"Very well. You will remain in Storybrooke, and Slightly can come to Oz. I expect you in Wonderland."

"Thank you."

Peter nodded, then left the room, taking Wendy with him.

Once they were alone, Tinkerbell pulled Felix aside, "Why won't you go to Oz?"

His face darkened again, and Tink pressed, "I've never seen you say no to Pan. Why now?"

Felix replied, his voice completely monotone, "I told you how Peter saved my life. I didn't tell you where. I was born in Oz. Maybe it's different now, but when I was there, the capital was the Emerald City. Everyone who lived in the Emerald City was incredibly wealthy. Everyone who didn't…wasn't. Especially after the war."

* * *

_Felix waited outside the tavern. He sat in the back of the building, which afforded him a view of the sordid proceedings within. Men sloshed mugs of poppy ale together, and laughed raucously at jokes that weren't that funny. Barmaids wandered around, refilling mugs, tight smiles on their faces to mask their annoyance at being groped. Darting between the barmaids were young women in low cut dresses showing off ample bosoms, the gowns slashed to show off shapely legs. They simpered and smiled and sat on the laps of the men they noticed were ordering multiple rounds- these men had at least a little money to spend, and perhaps if they demonstrated their assets, the men would spend some money on them instead of ale- and the girls would eat more than one meal over the next few days. Felix sympathized with them. He'd talked to a few while they waited for customers and he waited for his stepfather, and while the girls_ _**hated** _ _selling their bodies, they hated the thought of dying of hunger more. There weren't many jobs for women on this part of the Yellow Brick Road. Most of the men engaged in physical labor, the younger women (excluding the barmaids, who were related to the tavern owner) were prostitutes, and the older women tried to make themselves useful, but often found themselves out of work. Felix's mother worked as a seamstress, but there wasn't much pay or work for a seamstress in a town as poor as theirs. His father, Nick, had died when he was a baby- murdered by being hacked into pieces, though the culprit had never been found._

_Partly out of loneliness, but mostly out of necessity, Felix's mother, Nimmie, had accepted an offer of marriage from his father's best friend after Nick's death. Marcus was a blacksmith, ostensibly trained to shoe farmers' horses, but who made his real living as a result of the war. Of the men in the village who had come home alive, each had at least one missing limb. Since the villagers were too poor not to work (and physical labor was impossible without all four limbs), Marcus had solved the problem by making the men artificial limbs of tin. As such, Marcus was one of the few men in the village with money to spend, and when he asked Nimmie to marry him, she agreed- after all, she didn't just have herself to take care of, but her newborn son as well._

_Marcus was satisfied with the arrangement at first, as Nimmie had been quite beautiful when she was younger. However, like all women, she had aged, and the stress and sorrow had aged her beyond her years. Marcus had agreed to continue to support Nimmie and Felix, but only on the condition that she cooked and cleaned for him. And so long as she looked the other way when he sought his physical pleasures in the girls at the tavern._

_Felix knew it broke her heart, but his mother did whatever she had to to protect him. He was older now, and apprenticed to his stepfather. He longed for the day when his apprenticeship was over, and when he could petition the Witch to let him and his mother move down the Road. He fantasized about it often. He would be such a talented blacksmith that his skills would be needed far and wide, and even Princess Ozma would one day summon him to the gates of the Emerald City to place shoes on her horses. Felix would take his mother, of course, and once they passed through the gates, she wouldn't be sad anymore. He would save them both, and she would smile again._

_"Back again, Felix?"_

_He looked up into a pair of blue eyes, smiling sadly at him. Straggly black hair curled around the girl's shoulders, and she wore a faded, patchwork purple dress cut to show her pale legs._

_He gave her a mirthless smile back and drawled, "Every night, Serena. You know how it is."_

_"I do," she agreed, glancing through the window, "He's on his sixth glass. He'll pass out soon."_

_Felix snorted, "I hope so."_

_Serena bit her lip, speaking for all the girls, "We do, too," then she sighed, "We'll try to help him along."_

_Before she could return inside the tavern, Felix asked, "Serena, do you ever think about leaving?"_

_"Leaving what?" she blinked._

_"Leaving here," he gestured vaguely towards the forest, where a faint path of yellow bricks could be seen, "Going down the Road." The Yellow Brick Road led to the very heart of Oz and its capital city: the Emerald City. Inside the city it was said the residents dressed in expensive silks and satins, and their tables were covered in the finest delicacies. However, as the "Eastern Queen" said- for that was what she commanded they name her, though the people called her the Witch of the East behind her back -those citizens who lived in the Emerald City had only gotten there through hard work and dedication. They hadn't traveled down the Road by_ _**themselves** _ _. Instead, the Witch of the East evaluated each family's income and progress every year, and if they exceeded her expectations (and her taxes), she would let them travel to the next village on the Road- one mile, one step closer to living in the Emerald City -to begin their work again. If they met her expectations, they remained in their old village- and if they didn't, they moved to the village behind them, farther away from the Emerald City- farther away from hope._

_Felix knew, in a way, that traveling down the Yellow Brick Road was useless. The Witch rarely let families move on, and even if she did, they would never reach the Emerald City in their lifetime. No matter how much the Witch touted the virtue of hard work needed to go down the Road, no work would ever be enough._

_Serena sighed, "Of course I have. But you know we can't."_

_"The Witch isn't always around," Felix insisted, "Do you think she would really notice if my mother and I just left, one day? If we rode hard, maybe we could reach the city-"_

_"Felix," Serena said softly, taking his hand in hers, "The Witch knows_ _**everything** _ _. Don't- don't give up your life for a dream."_

_Felix opened his mouth to tell her that what he had now_ _**was** _ _no life, but before he could get the words out, he was backhanded, falling into the dirt._

_"What are you doing here, boy?" growled Marcus. He stood above Felix, glowering. His face was red with anger and drink._

_Rubbing his cheek, Felix drawled- his usual mask for his emotions, "Waiting for you, stepfather."_

_"Waiting for me?" Marcus barked, "Waiting for_ _**me** _ _!? If that's so, what are you doing out here with her?" he turned his gaze on Serena, "I paid for you, you little minx," he grabbed her wrist, and she gasped in pain, "Did you think you could pocket the money and run? Or do you find my stepson here more handsome than me?"_

_"N-no," the girl gasped, shrinking away from him, "Not at all, Marcus. You know I think you're very handsome- the most handsome man-"_

_"I think you're a liar," Marcus spat in her face, and Serena began to cry:_

_"I'm not lying! I swear I'm not! I promise I'm not!" her protestations fell on deaf ears. Marcus grabbed her and threw her up against the wall of the tavern._

_"Then you'll have to show me," the man growled, and he began to rip open her bodice._

_Felix jumped to his feet, "Let go of her!"_

_"Stay out of this, boy. This is what a man does."_

_"I said let go of her!" Felix shouted. This time, his yelling was loud enough to attract the attention of the tavern patrons. Serena was crying hysterically. Three men stumbled out of the tavern, assessing the situation: the sober boy, the sobbing girl in the patchwork dress, and the irate, smashed man about to rape her. They stared uneasily at one another. It was one thing to pay for a girl. It was another thing to take her without her consent. Two of the men hauled Marcus off Serena, while the third said:_

_"I think you've had enough for tonight, mate."_

_Marcus stared at the other men, incredulous._

_"But I-"_

_"Go home, Marcus. And don't come back until you stop shoving the girls around," the tavern owner said flatly. His arms were crossed, and he stood behind the third man, whom he had followed outside when he heard the ruckus._

_Without looking at her, the owner added, "You've got the night off. Give the man his money back." A still-weeping Serena obeyed, fishing the gold out of a pocket and practically throwing it to Marcus. Felix reached for Marcus, ready to guide the man home, but his stepfather shoved him off and stalked away._

_Felix sighed, and followed him._

_When they reached the cottage they called home, Marcus nearly ripped the door off his hinges. Felix's mother's mouth dropped open. She jumped to her feet:_

_"Marcus, what in Ozma's name happened?"_

_The man immediately slapped her as hard as he could, "_ _**Your** _ _bastard of a son happened! Felix made a fool of me in front of everyone."_

_Felix ran to his mother's side, pulling her out of Marcus' reach._

_"You did that yourself, stepfather," he retorted, examining the growing bruise on Nimmie's cheek. It was already a nasty black and blue._

_"I did no such thing!" Marcus snarled, "He insulted me! Mocked me!"_

_"You were trying to_ _**rape** _ _her!" Felix snapped, unable to keep his anger in check. All he could see was Serena, crying in her ripped dress, and scared out of her mind. He flexed his fists tightly._

_Felix's mother was horrified, "Marcus! You couldn't! You didn't…" she held a shaking hand to her mouth._

_"I paid for the bitch," the man replied, "She took my money, and when I went looking for her, she's sitting outside with_ _**your brat.** _ _Smiling at him, holding his hand…" Marcus shook his head, "I was only taking what I paid for, and what does he do? Pulls me away, shouts, and now I'm banned from the tavern. I use my wages to feed_ _**you** _ _!" he snarled at Felix, "I train you so you can have a job! You ungrateful swot!"_

_"Marcus," Nimmie laid her own hand on the man's arm, trying to diffuse the tension, "Felix and I are both grateful for what you do-"_

_"Oh, shut up, Nimmie! The only reason I helped you and your brat was because you whored yourself out to me. Your beauty's long gone, and you are a worthless slut," he struck her across the face, and she shrieked at the force behind the blow._

_At that, Felix saw red. He rushed Marcus, "My mother is_ _**not** _ _a slut!" In response, Marcus laughed, then punched the boy in the face. Felix fell to the ground, his head pounding. He put a hand to his nose, and it came away covered in blood._

_He was still staring at his hand when he heard the words, as if from a nightmare:_

_"Oh, is that what you think?" Marcus said cruelly, "I bet she told you a fairy story, how I gallantly saved you both after poor Nick met his end. But that never happened," he turned his anger on his wife, "Should you tell him, Nimmie? Or should I? How shameless you were? Not a month after your beloved Nick was dead and buried and you were on your knees in front of me." Slowly, Felix raised his head, and he struggled to stop the spinning of his vision. What he could see was that Marcus had his mother by the throat. Tears streamed down her face, and she was choking._

_"You made the same sounds then, too. I liked it," Marcus taunted her, leaning in towards her, "though that was a mistake. You were a mistake." Then he threw her into the side of the cottage. Felix screamed as her head fell backwards, smacking against the wall. Blood trailed behind her as his mother's body slumped to the floor, eyes lifeless._

_"Mother?" Felix queried. When she didn't answer, he dragged himself towards her. He gazed at her face, then cradled her in his lap._

_"Mother?" his voice cracked on the word, "Please, talk to me. Please. Mother? Mother!" He ran one hand through her hair, and almost vomited as it came away in blood again- though now it was hers and his together._

_"Stop your mewling, boy," Marcus said, "She won't wake up, no matter how many times you beg," he shrugged, "I didn't mean to hit her that hard; means I'll have to make my own food now. Oh, well."_

She's dead, _the realization hit Felix like a ton of bricks_ , He killed her. He _**killed**_ her. _Felix began to shake, an incredible, unfathomable rage filling him. Gently, he placed his mother's head on the wooden floor of their cottage. Then he stared at Marcus. The man had the gall to be taking another swig from a bottle of poppy ale he'd stashed in a cabinet, utterly unrepentant._

_"I'll kill you," Felix whispered. Then he leapt to his feet, "I'LL KILL YOU!" He ran towards Marcus, yanking the bottle out of his hand. Surprised by the assault, Marcus' eyes widened as his stepson's fist connected with his left eye. He staggered backwards, then roared in fury. He went for Felix, grabbing his shoulders. Marcus tried to push him into the wall, but Felix kicked him. The man swore as Felix went to punch him once more. He gripped both of the boy's hands in his, and the two pushed against each other, each fighting for dominance._

_"What do you think you're going to do?" Marcus jeered, "Fighting me won't bring her back. Besides, you can't beat me." He could feel Felix start to falter under his superior strength, and the larger man pressed his advantage._

_"What makes you so sure about that?" Felix demanded, "because I don't just plan to beat you. I plan to kill you. I plan to kill you, and then I'm going to tear your body into pieces!" He stepped backwards, getting Marcus off-balance, then elbowed him hard in the back. His stepfather laughed again._

_"What, like I did to your father?"_

_Felix's jaw dropped, "What are you talking about?"_

_"In Ozma's name, are you really that stupid?" Marcus asked, "Your mother might not look like much, especially now," he jerked his chin towards her body, "but back then," he licked his lips lasciviously, "she was irresistible. Everyone said so, and your dear father and I both wanted her," Marcus' face darkened, "Then the war started, and she chose him. The wedding was the night before we had to report to the king's army. We met the Eastern Queen's forces fairly quick. Some of us were smarter than others, and we joined her-"_

_"You betrayed the king?"_

_"No, boy. I served- and still do serve -the true queen. Why do you think I'm the one man in this town who still has his arms and legs?" Marcus shook his head, "Your father refused her offer, and said I was a fool even to consider it. I never told him I accepted it, of course._

_"In either case, Her Majesty and I made a deal. I'd serve her, and she'd make Nick so awful Nimmie would never want him again. The next battle we were in, your father lost his arms, his legs, and was horribly disfigured. He was_ _**useless** _ _, as a soldier and as a man, and the king sent us home as a result. Nick told Nimmie he'd release her from their marriage, but wouldn't you know your mother_ _**still** _ _wanted him?" Marcus was livid, even at the memory, "She asked me to make him arms and legs of tin. So I did, but I told the Eastern Queen what happened. Her Majesty said that she'd fulfill her promise to me, and she told me exactly what had to be done. So you see, one day, while Nick was out in the woods, I followed him-"_

_"No," Felix murmured, unable to even consider what he was hearing._

_"-and when he was all alone, just him and his axe, I took it," Marcus recounted the tale almost with fondness, "and I hacked him to pieces. Cut through his chest, his neck, his veins, slicing off one part at a time, with his own bloody axe."_

_"You were his best friend," Felix whispered, staring at his stepfather in shock._

_"War does funny things to people, boy," Marcus explained, "and when you see people dying all around you, your own life starts to get more and more attractive. Your father was going to throw his life away by choosing the losing side, and he was going to throw away_ _**mine** _ _too by dragging me with him. He already took the woman I wanted. I wouldn't let him take my life."_

_"I don't know what the war did to you, Marcus, but you're sick. My father," Felix said through gritted teeth, "was honorable. He was loyal to the king, and he was loyal to you. He would never have wanted you to die."_

_The man retorted, "Nick wasn't a real friend. He just wanted to take, and take, and take- but I wouldn't let him. Not anymore. You should have seen his face when I killed him," Marcus, even in the middle of his crazed rant, managed to look rational for a moment as he cocked his head, "though I guess you can, any time you look in a mirror. You look like him, you know. And it's because of that I know I'll beat you. I'm going after Nick all over again, just younger and weaker-"_

_At last, Felix snapped out of his horrified daze, "You were so jealous that you betrayed the king, betrayed my father, and then killed him so you could have my mother for yourself? And then you killed_ _**her** _ _because you were tired of her?"_

_Marcus shrugged, "I suppose that's one way of putting it."_

_Felix couldn't bear to hear another word. He launched himself at his stepfather, raining down blows, trying to get in strikes wherever he could. Marcus, in his drunken stupor, seemed to find the entire thing hilarious. He laughed, matching Felix hit for hit. Felix was vaguely aware his nose was broken, and that Marcus must have retrieved the bottle of poppy ale from the table where Felix had placed it before, because something smashed over his head. Blood dripped in his eyes, ale stinging the cuts on his scalp as glass littered the floor._

_Just then, Felix slipped on a piece of glass. He fell onto his back, shards of glass digging through his clothes. Marcus immediately dropped down next to him, putting a knife to his throat._

_"Finally," the man said with relish, "I can get rid of you, too." Felix braced himself, but the slice of the knife didn't come. Instead, Marcus grunted with shock and pain as he was kicked across the room. Felix instantly stood up, looking left and right for a weapon, not caring who had saved his life- he just wanted to_ _**kill** _ _Marcus. Felix wasn't carrying a knife, but- there! He dashed to the door of the forge adjoining their cottage, grabbing a hammer. Then he stalked back into the main room, where Marcus was just getting up. Felix hauled him to his feet, then pushed his stepfather against the wall._

_"No," Felix told the man, a strange adrenaline filling him, "I can get rid of you." Then he raised the hammer and smashed it into his stepfather's head. Over and over again. Marcus' shouts and screams, his pleas for mercy, went unheard. Felix simply continued to ram the hammer into Marcus' skull until the only sound left in the room was the cracking of bone._

_"I think it's safe to say you got rid of him," a calm voice interjected._

_Felix spun around in shock. A boy with blonde hair and green eyes stood next to his mother's body. Somehow, he was surrounded by shadow, even though the cottage was lit by candles._

_"I'm Peter Pan," he extended a hand to Felix, though the boy didn't take it. He stared at Pan- who must have been the one to save him- and noted:_

_"I haven't seen you before." Such a thing was impossible. No one left their villages here, not without the Witch's permission. Besides, this boy wasn't dressed like any Ozian he'd ever seen. He wore a combination of green leaves and leather, and he carried a glinting silver dagger at his waist._

_Peter shrugged, "You weren't lost before. Angry, maybe. Miserable, definitely- but not lost," he paused, "Shall we bury her, then? I don't think he deserves anything," Pan snorted derisively at Marcus' body, "but it sounded like you loved her very much."_

_Numbly, Felix nodded. Disbelievingly, he carefully lifted his mother's body in his arms. Peter followed him from the cottage. Felix wandered into the forest, seeking out a glade he knew his mother had liked to sit in on the few sunny days she wasn't working (or trying to work). It was harder in the darkness, but he still managed to find it. He sighed, then realized he didn't have a shovel. He turned to go back, but wordlessly, Pan handed him one. Felix didn't think to ask where he'd retrieved one at the time- all he cared about was burying his mother -though later he would realize it was magic. Felix accepted the shovel, and Peter, somehow discerning it was cathartic for Felix, let him dig the grave alone and unaided by either physical or magical means. Felix wept silently._

_When at last he had run out of tears, he pulled himself up from the grave. He looked back and forth from Pan to his mother's body. Her wounds were gone, and she wore a pale green silk dress. Her hair was combed in neat curls, and the lines of worry and pain were gone from her face. She was laid out in a coffin of pure crystal._

_"How did you…?" Felix asked, stunned, "Are you a warlock? Does the Witch know you're here?"_

_Peter laughed, "No, I'm not a warlock, and yes, she does. She's presently dealing with your Witch of the South. The problems of one boy are beneath her notice. However, they are not beneath mine."_

_Felix stared at him and asked again, "Who are you?"_

_"I'm Peter Pan," Pan stated, "and I help those who are Lost, like you. I can teach you to fight- though you were doing an excellent job by yourself -or I can take you away from Oz forever, if you wish it. I rule a world called Neverland, and-"_

_Before Pan could finish his speech, Felix cut him off, "I'll go."_

_"What?"_

_"I'll go," Felix said, decision firm, "Now that we've buried my mother, I want to leave and never come back. There's nothing for me in Oz anymore."_

* * *

Tinkerbell's jaw dropped, "Oh my God, Felix. I'm so sorry. So, so, sorry." She threw herself into his arms, and he sighed, breathing in her scent. She smelled of lilacs, and he found the smell comforting.

"It's not your fault," she told him, "You know that, right? None of it was your fault. Your stepfather was a horrible man. You and your mother deserved so much better." Inwardly, she wondered why it seemed all the boys she cared for had such dark pasts. It wasn't fair to them.

"We did," Felix attempted a semblance of his normal drawl, although she knew he was trying to hide his roiling emotions, "but it's done. It's over, and I don't want to go back, because I don't know if anything's changed."

Tink froze, "Are you…are you worried about Serena?"

Instantly realizing the source of her agitation, Felix held her closer, "No. We were friends, Tink, nothing more. Besides, she said herself she would never leave our village. She was afraid," he swallowed, "and more than likely, she's long dead now."

"I'm sorry," the fairy stated. She wished she could say more, but she didn't know what else she could possibly add to lessen his pain, or if that was even possible.

"I know," Felix answered.

* * *

Peter had acquiesced to Felix's wish, though he didn't seem happy about it. He hardly said a word to Wendy, simply holding her hand in his and leading her down the mansion stairs. He summoned Slightly with a flick of his other hand, and the Lost Boy obediently followed his leader outside the mansion. They walked into the woods, though they avoided the Wishing Well. As the forest swallowed them up, Wendy dropped Peter's hand. Surprised, he looked at her, and she commanded:

"Tell me about Oz." Peter started to roll his eyes, but Wendy held her ground:

"Felix didn't want to go. If you're taking me, I want you to tell me why. What is so bad about Oz that even he won't go?"

Slightly gulped, but Pan interrupted smoothly, "That's Felix's story to tell. But I suppose you should know a bit about the place, considering we'll need our own story for them to accept us. Slightly, perhaps you could enlighten our own Storyteller?"

Wendy was about to protest when Slightly launched into his own explanation, clearly eager to improve Peter's sour mood:

"Oz was once ruled by King Pastoria. He was a good man, and had inherited magical talent. There was talk that his family had fairy blood running through it. I'm not sure, but whether or not it was true, his magical talents were also shared by his four sisters. They got along, and he gave each sister a quadrant of Oz- North, South, East, and West -to govern under his rule. He thought it was unfair he should have everything. Things were peaceful until he had a daughter, Princess Ozma. The sisters liked their niece well-enough, until Pastoria declared that when she turned fourteen, _she_ would gain control over the quadrants, one by one, in order to learn how to rule Oz one day," he shrugged, "The sisters were, of course, displeased. They had poured their lives into their governerships. When Ozma learned of her father's law, she told her aunts they'd be nothing but spinsters, and lose all their importance. The people wouldn't care about them any longer."

Wendy grimaced, "I imagine that didn't go over well."

"Not well at all," Slightly agreed, "Civil war broke out, with each of the sisters against their brother. Pastoria knew that to defeat his sisters, he would need to fight them himself. He called all able-bodied men to his army, and the sisters called on the men in their quadrants to fight for _them_ instead. Before the king left the Emerald City, he cast a spell on it so it couldn't be breached by anyone in their world. He thought if the worst happened and he died- which he did -at least his daughter would be safe in the capital.

"Now, Oz is ruled, at least in name, by Princess Ozma-"

"What do you mean, 'in name?'" Wendy asked, but this time, it was Peter who answered her:

"In reality, it's ruled by the four sisters- four witches -each of which is fighting amongst the other for supremacy. They do, however, agree on one thing: if _they_ want to rule, Ozma cannot be allowed to grow up to fight them. They've used a spell on her to keep her frozen at age thirteen."

"Like Neverland?" Wendy breathed, surprised. She'd thought immortality a feature unique to Neverland.

"No," Slightly shook his head, "In Neverland, people choose to be immortal, and they remain themselves. Ozma isn't immortal- not truly. She's _stuck._ She didn't choose her status. Additionally, she's not herself. She exhibits all the worst aspects of a thirteen year old girl. Her personality is completely warped."

"Then why not just kill her?" Wendy asked, "If she's not actually immortal. I mean, if the witches killed her, then they could fight amongst themselves for the throne," she bit her lip, "since I assume each one wants to be the sole queen of Oz now, right?"

Peter replied, "There's a treaty that any monarch of Oz has to be crowned in the Emerald City to be a valid ruler. If no such ruler exists, the kingdom of Oz is ceded to Queen Zixi of Ix. Obviously, the witches don't want that to happen. So their first priority is to keep Ozma from reaching her age of majority when she could legally rule, their second is breaking the spell over the Emerald City, and their third priority is killing Ozma and each other. They can't attempt the third without accomplishing the other two, though. Additionally, they're preoccupied not only fighting themselves, but the fairy queen of Oz, Lurline. Lurline is fighting to keep Ozma on the throne, and in doing so, she distracts the witches. The witches won't fight Lurline together. I don't know why," Pan snorted, "It would be the most expedient route to get rid of their shared enemy, as well as an easy way to get rid of each other so there is only one, undisputed claimant to the throne," he shrugged, "In either case, Lurline keeps the witches from trying to break the spell over the Emerald City and kill the princess. Since they can't get into the city, the witches realized they had to control Ozma herself to keep _any_ control over the world- the citizens in their own quadrants came to hate them because they believed the witches didn't care about their lives and would sacrifice them so the winner could assume the throne. So the witches found a man who happened to travel to Oz at just the wrong time- a man who came from the Land Without Magic."

"The _Wizard of Oz_?"

At Wendy's quick deduction, Peter grinned, "The Ozians thought he was a wizard. He was the only one able to get into the Emerald City and bypass Pastoria's spell. Unfortunately, the man's no wizard- just an apothecary -and the witches got to him before he could get to the city: they told him he'd only be allowed to keep his life if he smuggled a magical elixir into the city with him, and put it into Ozma's drink within three days. If Ozma drank the elixir, then she would fall under the witches' spell. If he didn't…a curse would rebound on him and he would die. The 'wizard' did as they asked, and now both he and Ozma are prisoners within the city. She is in thrall to the Witches. He serves as a spy for the witches, as well as routinely dumps drugs into the populace's food and drink so they don't realize the truth about Ozma- both conditions of him keeping his life."

"Oh," Wendy said sadly, "I suppose that's...a bit different from the book in the library." When she went to the library to do her homework in peace- back before her brothers had betrayed her and she felt relatively free to move around town -she'd often perused the books in its stacks. It was done partly as a break, and partly because she could not resist a good story. Also, she had been morbidly curious about how the Land Without Magic described her own life. When she'd learned of its rather shallow, trite, and mostly incorrect account, she'd become rather depressed and desperately needed to read something, anything, that would raise her spirits. "The Wizard of Oz," appealed to her, and so it was one of the tomes she'd read to improve her mood. Apparently, it was just as incorrect- and filled with the potential for bloodshed -as her own tale had been.

Slightly laughed, "Just a bit. There's more, but-"

"We need to fly, now," Pan interrupted, "Regina doesn't know yet that we know what she did. I don't want to waste that advantage. Let's go."

Peter grabbed Wendy's hand tighter, as he had once, long ago in Neverland- though unlike before, he didn't remove her Shadow or his. He also reached for Slightly's hand, who, noticing Peter's mood had greatly improved after hearing Wendy's somewhat morbid questions, gave his friend some good-natured ribbing:

"Aw, mate, I didn't know you cared."

Pan rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Slightly. I don't have pixie dust, and unless you want to go careening through the universe and get lost forever, you'll take my hand."

The Lost Boy muttered, "I was only joking," but took Pan's hand nonetheless.

Peter ignored the insubordination, entirely focused on his mission. Instead, he looked towards the sky, rose into the air, and shouted: "Three!"

Wendy felt the familiar pulling sensation as stars warped around her, and space sucked the trio in. Peter and Slightly shouted with exhilaration. Pan, of course, flew straight and easily, even while the magic yanked them forward. Slightly was a bit more awkward, but he grinned as he threw in a few flips here and there. Wendy, not as practiced in flying as they had been (even though she had received flying lessons), tumbled over and over without any control whatsoever, screaming in terror.

Just when she thought she might lose the others, even though Peter's fingers were loosely tied around her own, they were sucked out of the blackness and into Oz. Peter tightened his grip on Wendy's hand, stopping her spinning. He seemed surprised that she'd been tumbling about at all, which Wendy thought spoke volumes. He normally was hypersensitive to her; for him to not realize she'd been flying completely out of control demonstrated how much he enjoyed his journey through their stars.

Slowly, they descended to the ground. Peter deposited Wendy and Slightly on a road made of yellow brick. It led directly to a massive city made of green- the legendary Emerald City -a city that apparently only they, as foreigners from another world, could enter. Wendy took a step towards it, utterly enchanted, but Peter pulled her back:

"Wait. They won't give up Henry. Henry doesn't even remember who he _is._ We need a story to get them to let us view all the boys in Oz," he grinned cockily, "Luckily, I've already got one."

"Of course you do," Wendy said. Despite herself, she couldn't help but recall a time in Neverland where she'd told him, hysterically, "You'll always, always, have power."

Peter smirked, "I've visited Oz many times. They call me a 'star traveler' in the Emerald City. We're going to tell them the same about you. However, they are going to want to know more about you, especially Ozma, so you two must have backstories that are plausible not only for you to travel here, but also plausible to explain that you desperately need Henry."

Wendy recognized his "plan" was rather an elaborate game of pretend, and asked, "All right. So who exactly are Slightly and I?"

* * *

_"Who exactly are you?" the boy demanded. Bae, seated on the nursery floor, hung his head as John Darling angrily poked him with an umbrella (apparently the only device he could come up with to hurt him at the moment)._

_"My name's Bae," Bae mumbled. John promptly hit him over the head with the umbrella and snapped:_

_"I know that! You told us that last time! But you're not an orphan, are you?" His eyes blazed._

_"Yes, I am," Bae protested feebly. It was true. His papa, for all intents and purposes, was dead. He'd chosen magic over Bae, and as for his mother, she was gone too. He had no one, except the Darlings. If he lost the Darlings, he really would have nothing. No one would care if he lived or died- though, he supposed, would Mrs. Darling even want to see him now that Wendy was gone?_

_"Where're you from?" the smaller boy asked. Michael Darling held his teddy bear close to him, tears streaming down his face. He was nowhere near as articulate as his brother, but he too knew Bae was a liar._

_"It doesn't matter," Bae insisted, "but I promise you, I'm an orphan."_

_"You're wrong," Michael replied, lower lip trembling, "You're wrong!"_

_"Michael's right," John said, completely livid, "If it wasn't for you, Wendy would never have met the Shadow. If it wasn't for you, she never would have gone to Neverland…she would be here with us. Now…she'll never come back, will she?" at John's tirade, Bae only hung his head lower, "_ _**Will** _ _she?"_

_"I'm going to get her," Baelfire said feebly, fighting back tears of his own, "I will. I'll find a way. Magic got her there, and magic," he grimaced at the thought, "magic can help. I'll use magic, one more time-"_ One more time, _he thought,_ for Wendy. Then never again.

_"You will_ _**not** _ _," John snarled, "You told us a long time ago that magic was bad. That it destroyed your family. Now- now it's destroyed ours," a tear fell down his cheek, which he hurriedly wiped away, "It can't help. Magic only hurts-"_

_Bae sighed, "Not all magic. True love is the greatest magic of all. That can help." Or so he hoped._

_Michael cocked his head, "Are you in love with Wendy?" He walked towards the taller boy, confused. He heard of true love as being between princes and princesses (at least in Wendy's stories). Baelfire wasn't a prince…or he didn't look like one. What kind of prince rummaged for bread on the streets and stole from houses?_

_Bae blushed, but shook his head, "No, Michael, but there are different kinds of love. I love Wendy like a sister-"_

_"But she's not your sister!" John yelled, "She's our sister!" he bent down so he was at Baelfire's height, "Don't say you love her. If you did, you wouldn't have brought magic here. Now she's gone, and it's all your fault!" He shook Bae by the shoulders, practically pushing him over._

_"No," Baelfire protested, "It's not my fault, John. Don't say that!" He managed to regain his balance, and John whirled away, riposting:_

_"Why not? It's true! You brought magic here! You did it, even though you said it was bad!"_

_"I didn't mean to!" Bae said, desperate to convince the brothers he never wanted to hurt them, "I wanted to keep you all safe." It was true. Why else would he step forward and sacrifice himself to the Shadow and take Michael's place to begin with? He loved them all. They had become his family. He never wanted anything to hurt them, magic included._

_"But you didn't," Michael whimpered. The tears that already coated his face began to fall faster and faster. Bae's heart, already broken by the realization that Wendy went to Neverland for him, cracked even further at the little boy's weeping._

_"I tried, but-"_

_"No," John insisted, "Stop, Bae, if that's even your real name. Just- stop. I don't want to see you…or your magic…ever again. Get out of here." He grabbed Bae by the shoulder once more and yanked him to his feet._

_"What?" Baelfire gasped as John used his umbrella to herd him towards the window, "John, wait! Where will I go?"_

_"I don't care where you go! I don't care about you! Don't you get it? I just care about my sister! I care about Wendy!" John fumed. He was seething, and he felt as though his very blood was boiling. How_ _**dare** _ _Baelfire insist he was innocent? How_ _**dare** _ _he say he wanted to protect their family? How_ _**dare** _ _he object to leaving when he was the cause of all this?_

_Through his tears, Michael mumbled, "I want Wendy to come home, John. I want Wendy home."_

_John cast a glance at his crying brother, then turned back to Bae, his face contorted in a rage far behind his years, "We're going to bring my sister home. And we don't need you, or magic, to do it. Get out, Bae," he paused, "You climb out that window on your own or I shove you out. Your choice."_

_Bae's eyes widened, "John, you're_ _ten years old! Would you really kill me?" Even in the Enchanted Forest, most murderers were adults._

_John retorted, "Mother says I'm mature for my age. Don't underestimate me, Bae. I'll kill you, and I'll kill your stupid magic. I just want Wendy back!" To punctuate this statement, he jabbed Baelfire again with his umbrella:_

_"Last chance, Baelfire. Get out of here, and don't come back!"_

_Bae sighed, heart heavy, "Fine. Tell your parents…tell them…tell them thank you for taking care of me." He didn't dare say more. He carefully swung his leg out the window, then his hands, doing his best to find purchase on the roof and figure out how to make it to the streets again._

_John, for his part, slammed the window down and yanked the curtains shut. He didn't want any reminders of Baelfire. In fact, he wished the boy was dead._

_John was brought out of his fury by Michael tugging at his hand, "John…what do we do now?"_

_"We do just what I said," John answered, "Come on, Michael." He led his brother down the stairs of their home, cautiously avoiding the parts of the floor that creaked. He didn't want to disturb their mother any more than she already was. Since her daughter's disappearance, she'd been sobbing nonstop. Both brothers had no idea that humans could make so many tears, but it seemed their mother had an infinite supply. George Darling, for his part, had no idea how to comfort his wife. In truth, he had no idea how to comfort himself. As hard as he was on his children, he loved them deeply, and the loss of his daughter had hit him particularly hard. When Mary Darling finally cried herself to sleep in his arms, George would gently sneak out of bed. First he always checked on his remaining two boys. Then he wandered about the house, eventually sitting in the parlor, staring at the window and wondering where Wendy had disappeared to. It was only then that he himself cried._

_He hadn't slept for months, and it had affected his job prospects. The once promising banker was days away from losing his job. He didn't dare tell his family, but he feared they would have to leave their home soon. And it was the last thing he wanted to do, for what if, one day, Wendy did come back? How would she even know where they'd gone?_

_So George Darling spent his nights, completely sleepless, neglecting the work in his office._

_Thus it was he had no idea his two boys crept into the office. It was a small room, but the centerpiece was a desk made of dark wood. A green lamp illuminated the few accoutrements the room contained- some banking tomes on the bookshelf, pens strewn in a perpetually open drawer, and a typewriter that should have been filled with figures weeks ago._

_John and Michael closed the door softly behind them, then turned on the light. A dim glow barely lit up the typewriter. It wasn't ideal, but the boys feared that any greater light would attract the attention of their parents- or worse, the Shadow, if the thing ever returned._

_John pulled back his father's chair, then seated himself in it, regal as a king._

_"All right, Michael, push me in." The little boy obliged, both brothers wincing as the chair scraped a bit across the floor._

_"Keep quiet, will you?" John admonished his brother. The last thing he needed was Michael sabotaging their chance to find Wendy._

_"Sorry, John. What about me?"_

_"Get the stool in the corner," John said dismissively. Michael pursed his lips, but obeyed. He dragged a three-legged stool towards the desk, just managing to get a view of John as he put a fresh sheet into the typewriter._

_"What are you doing?"_

_"I was serious before. We're going to bring Wendy home, but we're going to need some help to do it. We can't be the only ones hurt by magic, can we?" John postulated. With that, he began to type:_

_Esteemed Sirs and Madams,_

_The Home Office hopes this letter finds you well…_

* * *

"Peter!" a voice, clearly that of a young girl, shrieked. She was shorter than Wendy, with red-gold hair in perfect curls and bright blue eyes. Gowned in cloth of gold lined with emeralds and diamonds, she hurtled off her throne towards the group and tossed her golden scepter aside to a startled, green-garbed guard. She threw her arms around the older boy, who casually returned the hug. Her eyes were closed in delirious happiness, but when they opened, they fell on Slightly and Wendy. Her blue eyes, which were previously filled with utter joy, narrowed. The girl released Peter, then demanded:

"Who is she?"

Wendy bristled at the accusation, and was even more annoyed at Pan's blasé reply:

"This is Princess Gwendolyn of London. We call her Wendy."

"She has a _nickname_?" the girl said, absolutely disgusted.

"Well, not everyone can have a name that conveys its loveliness in such a short length as you, Ozma," Peter smiled at the princess, and kissed her hand. Instantly, Ozma was placated, though she still regarded Wendy with suspicion.

"This is her bodyguard, Sir Ian Eton," Peter continued, as Slightly swept Ozma an elegant bow, "Both have asked for my assistance in finding her brother, Prince Henry."

"I see," Ozma replied slowly, "Well, come into the throne room, and we can talk about _Wendy's_ brother." She turned around, linking her arm through Pan's, and walked back towards her throne. The height contrast between the two was startling, but the way Ozma leaned against him was clearly possessive.

_Well,_ Wendy thought darkly, _I can see what they meant about "worst aspects of a thirteen year old girl."_ She tried not to let it get to her, but after Ozma had settled back in her throne, requesting that someone bring a chair for Peter at once, she couldn't help but snap:

"Your Highness."

"I'm sorry?" Ozma blinked, staring at Wendy. She had been whispering in Pan's ear- and he was doing an excellent impression of a rapt listener; at least, Wendy thought it was an impression -and the fact Wendy had interrupted her threw her. No one interrupted the princess of Oz.

"You will call me Your Highness. Not Wendy," the girl stated through gritted teeth. Her hands were clenched into fists.

Ozma leaned back in her throne, letting her own hands rest comfortably on the armrests. She smiled, though there was little warmth in it, "And why should I do that?"

"Because I'm a princess," Wendy retorted, "same as you." Although Wendy was entirely focused on Ozma, Slightly had been watching the exchange between all three. He crossed his arms, just managing to resist the urge to whistle at Wendy's and Ozma's blooming dislike. He also felt a chill run down his spine when he noticed Pan's reaction: at Wendy's declaration, a dark fire had alit in his eyes, and he'd smirked in pleasure. The second Ozma turned to Pan though, his face had instantly morphed into a bland smile, his eyes seemingly filled with delight at meeting her again.

"No," Ozma answered lightly, reaching for the scepter a guard handed to her with a bow, "Not same as me. You see, _Wendy_ ," she placed extra stress on the name, "You are in my world. The only one who receives a title in Oz is me. It's a matter of respect, after all. And then you need my help finding your brother. I don't need anything from you," she smiled, this time a true one, "so _you_ will call me 'Your Highness.'"

Wendy jerked her chin at Peter, "He calls you Ozma."

"Peter," Ozma gazed at him in adoration, "is a very old, very dear...friend," the way she lingered over the word "friend" showed how much more she viewed him as, and how much more she wanted him to be, "He gets certain privileges no one else does."

Wendy paused for a moment, trying to remind herself she was speaking to a cursed thirteen year old. This nasty child was likely not the personality of the real Ozma. It couldn't be, not if a fairy queen was fighting for her freedom. It wouldn't be fair to be cruel to her, not when the girl couldn't control what she said.

Still, Wendy couldn't help herself. She stood ramrod straight, and stated:

"You are right- I do need your help. And I expect you will aid me in this task, as any good ruler would- and Peter assures me you are a great ruler," Ozma smiled at Wendy's praise, but the smile quickly vanished at her next comment, "and you're right: we're not the same. You're a princess now, and you'll stay a princess forever. But me? I'll be a queen."

Ozma's jaw dropped, and she flushed with anger. The princess stood, ready to shout insults at Wendy, but Peter stood also, lacing his fingers through hers, and Ozma became distracted by his magnetic presence- as she herself had once been, Wendy remembered uncomfortably.

"I'm afraid that's not true," Pan soothed the irate princess, "not if you help us, anyway. Ozma, Wendy's brother is the heir to her kingdom. He's gone missing, and we fear he's been kidnapped and taken here by dark magic. His name is Henry, and he looks like this," Peter, somehow produced the familiar piece of parchment with a flourish (how, Wendy couldn't figure out- he'd told her he no longer had any magic except that to fly. So how could he do this?) and presented it to Ozma, "but his memories have been stolen. He may not remember who he is."

As Peter guided her back to her throne, Ozma mused, "But why would they want to take him here? And what would they hope to do to him?"

Slightly spoke up, "Your Highness, unlike your beautiful world, ours is plagued by war. The king died suddenly, and Henry is his heir. However, Henry is below the age of majority, and he isn't able to defend himself. Many are trying to steal the throne from him, and many are dead. We Loyalists are searching for him, desperately, but just as desperately are the Rebels hoping he'll disappear. What better way to ensure we never find him than send him to a different world?" he shook his head, for all appearances the contrite, mourning knight, "They took him using stolen magic beans. We chased after him, but we were able to see only the green spires of your own stunning Oz before the portal closed."

Wendy rolled her eyes at Slightly's ostentatious flattery- she thought he'd been laying it on a bit thick -but it was clear that both Peter and Slightly were doing this on purpose. Ozma practically preened under their attention. An insecure thirteen year old princess was being praised by two older, handsome boys, one a dashing knight, the other a magical being whom she dreamt would be her king. She _loved_ it, and Wendy realized that Peter and Slightly were doing exactly what they knew would guarantee Ozma's aid. Wendy considered helping them, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to flatter the princess. Aside from that, she was still ambivalent about the whole affair. Wendy didn't want Henry to die. But she didn't want to be locked up in a jail cell either.

"We were utterly devastated," Slightly continued, "until Peter visited our world. We told him of our plight, and he, being the brave star-traveler, told us his own story, and pledged to assist us."

"That still doesn't answer the question," Ozma repeated, "of what they would hope to do to him." It was only a second, but her eyes flashed pink. The hairs on Wendy's neck stood on end. Before, Ozma's cursed personality had been present, though relatively independent- now, someone was using her as a vessel. Someone was _watching_ them.

_One of the witches!_ Wendy thought with horror.

At this, Wendy jumped in, realizing she had to add her part to the play for it to be realistic- at least for the witch watching the scenario:

"They would hope to abandon him here forever, and by taking away his memories, keep him from ever trying to return and reclaim his throne. With him gone, that leaves me a target. A Rebel would marry me to legitimize his claim," Wendy pretended to tremble with horror at the thought, "but keeping Henry alive in Oz would also relieve them of any guilt about potentially murdering a ten year old boy. So you see, we _need_ my brother back-"

"Why couldn't you just rule?"

Wendy swallowed, thinking on her feet, "In my land, only men can be kings...which is why getting rid of Henry is so important to them. But men can marry into the royal family by marrying a princess. If my brother was gone, and a Rebel married me, he would be made king automatically."

"So what is it, exactly, that you want?" Ozma's eyes flashed pink again, and she sat back on her throne, withdrawing her hands from Peter completely. If Wendy had any doubt a witch watched them, it was gone now. Ozma had stopped paying attention to Peter entirely. Interestingly, Pan, catlike, moved backwards into the shadows- so Ozma couldn't see him, Wendy realized. He was wary of whatever was interrogating them.

"We want to save Prince Henry, and have his memories returned to him. Then we want to return to our world, eternally grateful for the kindness of Her Highness, Princess Ozma," Slightly supplied. His hand drifted to his belt, though he managed to cover his desire to reach for his dagger by bowing again.

Ozma raised an eyebrow, then commanded, "Leave us." Flicking her hand, she dismissed all of the courtiers and guards from her throne room, and they departed. None seemed to have noticed the abrupt change in her demeanor- but then again, how would they? Ozma was cursed, and probably had been for ages. They would no doubt put it up to mood swings. And as for her eternal, youthful princesshood? Simply a sign she should rule. Or at least the drugs would ensure they thought that.

Once they were alone, Ozma stared at Wendy and Slightly. Despite herself, Wendy almost withered under her gaze. The princess did not even blink. Her eyes merely flashed pink every now and again. Then she raised her right hand towards them, opening her mouth. Before she could do whatever she intended- Wendy suspected it was probably cast a spell to kill them; the witch had obviously recognized that they were here via foreign magic, and perceived them as a threat -Peter slipped around the front of the throne again. He took Ozma's hand, kissed it, then smirked:

"Glinda. Aren't you going to introduce yourself properly?"

Ozma's eyes widened, and then she threw Peter's hands away. When she spoke again, her voice was different:

" _Star-traveler_. We told you not to return."

"And I told you to stop hurting these people," Peter replied, "It appears we are both bad listeners."

The princess' lips curled into a sneer, "You always were insufferably arrogant."

"And you are insufferably stupid," Pan retorted instantly, "We want to leave Oz. You heard our terms. We require this boy." He proffered the parchment to Ozma, and she ran her nails over it, her mannerisms far more adult than was appropriate for a thirteen year old. She was entirely possessed by the witch now. Wendy and Slightly exchanged uneasy glances.

"You promise not to return to Oz if I give you this boy?" Ozma- or rather Glinda-through-Ozma -asked.

"You and I both know that I don't make deals unless I'm absolutely sure the other party can deliver," Peter stared back at the princess- who still had yet to blink. She was just _creepy_.

"Very well," Glinda-through-Ozma said, her tone dripping with disdain, "How do you suggest we find this boy? If his memories are missing, I cannot use my magic to find him."

Pan scoffed, "Do you even have magic to _spare_? Last I checked you were dealing with three other witches, plus Lurline and her army," Glinda-through-Ozma narrowed her eyes, but he continued, entirely unabashed, "Have Ozma hold a ball. Invite all boys in the Emerald City aged ten to seventeen to attend. There will be an archery contest, and the lucky winner can claim his prize of becoming Ozma's king."

Glinda-through-Ozma retorted, "Absolutely not. I won't condone giving Oz _another_ false ruler."

"You won't have to," Peter replied easily, "I'm going to win, and I have zero desire to marry Ozma, or to stay here. I just want to find the boy. The easiest way to do that is to gather them all in one place so I can get a look at them. Remember, Glinda, he doesn't have his memories."

"You would say no to ruling Oz?" Glinda-through Ozma asked doubtfully. It was, after all, everything the witch wanted.

At that, Peter laughed cruelly, "I've my own world to rule, and I much prefer it to this one. The prize only says the winner _can_ claim the kingship, which I have no intention of doing, I assure you."

"If you don't want to rule Oz, what do you want the boy for? And how can you be certain he'll be in the Emerald City?" Glinda-through-Ozma inquired.

Pan replied, "Just what my fellow star-travelers told you. He's a prince and his kingdom's in turmoil without him," he grinned- this part was truthful, after all -"I'm certain he'll be in the Emerald City because that's where they'll hide him. They can remove his conscious memories, but there are certain things that cannot be hidden- his bearing, his skill with jousting, his competence at associating with high society. Where _else_ in Oz would you hide such a prince? The Emerald City. He'll have implanted memories to replace the old and his adopted family will have been paid a handsome fee to take him in."

"And you think no one notice?"

"With all due respect, Glinda, the way the Emerald City is enchanted and drugged right now, everyone's far too absorbed in themselves to notice a new child."

"Don't insult me," Glinda-through-Ozma snarled, but Pan shrugged:

"It's the truth. It's how you keep them from noticing _your_ possession of Ozma. I'm not concerned by the drugs you've got your 'wizard' slipping in the people's food and drink. Don't deny how you're conducting your war. In either case, however you're conducting it makes no difference to me."

"If I give you this boy," Glinda-through-Ozma stipulated, obviously sick of listening to his barbs, "If I do this, you'll leave Oz," she sniffed, "I don't want you interfering in our affairs any longer."

Pan smirked and shrugged, the gesture filled with cockiness, "As you say, Glinda. Do we have a deal?"

"Fine," Glinda-through-Ozma spat, "we have a deal. I'll plant a suggestion in her head for this contest tonight. I want you gone as soon as possible."

"Likewise," Peter agreed, "Shall we part now? I do so enjoy our chats, Glinda, but I suspect you don't feel the same."

"I pray I never see you again, Peter Pan," then the princess rolled her eyes and shuddered. There was one final pink flash, and then Wendy sensed Glinda was gone. Ozma shook her head, curls shining in the green light of the throne-room.

"Peter!" she clapped her hands like the child she was, "I've just had the most wonderful idea!"

"Oh?" Pan feigned interest, "What is it? I'm sure it's a fantastic one."

"It's been so long since I've seen you," Ozma whined, "We should _celebrate_ your return!"

"Nothing would make me happier, but Ozma," Peter said regretfully, "I made a promise to Wendy and Sir Ian. I must find her brother, and quickly."

"That's easy," Ozma replied flippantly, "We'll just invite all the boys in the Emerald City. And- ooh!" she clapped her hands again, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, "We can have a _contest_!" she glanced at Peter, blushing, "An _archery_ contest. Whoever wins, well..."

"Well?" he prompted, and she added, "He will be the one who wins my heart and proves to be worthy to be king of Oz."

Wendy fought the urge to vomit.

_This isn't really Ozma_ , she reminded herself, _She's cursed._

"You will compete, won't you, Peter?" Ozma asked hopefully.

Pan smiled at her, pouring all his charm into his reply, "Of course."

* * *

Wendy and Slightly were shown to a room far, far away from Ozma's. Peter, naturally, was shown to a massive suite next to hers. There wasn't much to do but wait for Ozma's ball, and Peter's trap. In the meantime, they whiled away the hours by examining the various clothes servants had brought for them to wear ("It's forbidden for anyone but Her Highness the Princess Ozma to wear clothes that aren't green in the Emerald City," they had been informed). Slightly had been given no less than twenty handsome outfits that were variations of the palace guards' uniform. Wendy had been given five gowns that ranged from ugly to hideous.

"Which of these is the least painful?" Wendy spread the gowns on the bed. The colors went from a sickly yellow-green to a green so dark it was almost black. Some were spangled with sequins in horrendous patterns. Others were plainly falling apart.

Slightly appraised them, struggling not to laugh, "I guess...this one." He pointed to the one that was a combination of green and black.

"It looks like a moldy rock," Wendy looked at the dress in distaste.

"Trust me," Slightly assured her, "the others are worse."

Wendy sighed, but accepted his judgment. She retreated to the bathroom, gown in tow, and quickly dressed herself in it. Unfortunately, no make-up had been provided, but she scrounged up an old elastic from the bathroom vanity drawer. Frowning at her reflection, she put her hair into a messy bun.

When she emerged, Slightly had dressed himself in the most dashing of the uniforms. Wendy knew she looked even more terrible next to him. That had most likely been Ozma's plan all along, but still.

Slightly covered his smile as he offered her his arm, "Wendy-lady, would you permit me to escort you this evening?"

Wendy took it, "You'd better. I feel like Ozma would kill me if Peter did."

"She wouldn't kill you," Slightly noted, "That would upset Peter, and she knows that. She's got quite the crush on him."

"I hadn't noticed," Wendy response was uncharacteristically sarcastic, but Slightly was unperturbed:

"-she'd definitely string you up though."

"If you're trying to be comforting, Slightly, it's not working," Wendy told him. He opened the door to their room, gesturing for her to leave first. Then he folded her arm through his, the action simple and flawless, and she was reminded again of his past. And Peter's past.

"I'm being honest with you, Wendy," Slightly insisted, "Ozma is jealous of you."

"Why?" Wendy said, incredulous, "If she's the worst a thirteen year old can be, she shouldn't care about me. She's a princess."

"With a crush on Peter Pan, and he's never made _her_ a star-traveler," Slightly pointed out. He gave her a significant look, raising his eyebrows.

"The _only_ reason he made me a star-traveler tonight is to protect me," Wendy recalled as they turned a corner. That's what she thought, anyway. The Charmings would no doubt attempt to get into Regina's mansion when they discovered she'd been broken out of her cell.

"Then why did he take you to Wonderland before?"

Wendy shifted uncomfortably as they reached the great gold doors marking the entrance to the ballroom, "I don't know."

Slightly said nothing more as he led her into the ballroom, and Wendy stifled a gasp. The ceilings were vaulted, and had to be more than fifty feet high. Some appeared to be made of green glass- emerald, she realized. The dance floor was surrounded by columns made of green marble. Beyond the columns were tables of food and refreshments- all green, of course -and guests who mingled and sipped at green drinks.

"Wendy-lady, I'm afraid I must leave you for a few moments," Slightly dropped her arm as they made their way to one of the tables.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to look for Henry."

" _What_?" Wendy blanched, but Slightly shrugged:

"Surely you haven't forgotten why we're here. This isn't a joy ride. We're going to find Henry, and then we're going to leave." He had already begun scanning the ballroom for any signs of the black-haired boy.

"But you just said Ozma would string me up," Wendy protested, "You can't leave me alone!" She grabbed at his hand, her own eyes flitting around the ballroom. A few of the female guests were giggling at her gown, while the males appeared intrigued, if standoffish.

"You and I both know you're never alone," Slightly swallowed, "Not really." Then he moved into the crowd, and Wendy lost sight of him.

Just then, two guardsmen rapped their spears on the floor. They wore long, flowing green robes with gold buttons at the chests. Embroidery ran over the jacket, the circular embroidery spelling out a cursive "OZ" if one caught them at the right angle. Massive fur hats topped off the ensemble, and they hung so low Wendy wondered how they could see at all.

"Bow before the Princess of Oz!" they shouted in unison. They rapped their spears again, and stepped aside. Although everyone around her sunk into deep curtsies and bows, Wendy was frozen in place. Peter, dressed in his usual leaves (apparently he'd refused any outfits Ozma had shown him), escorted Ozma into the ballroom, holding her right hand lightly in his left. The princess was beaming, dressed in a white gown with diamonds interwoven into the fabric. The gown had two ruffles at the bottom, with a train at least two feet long. The bodice of the dress was tinted pale green, with diamonds, gold, and green embroidery practically covering her chest. It also appeared as if she had a sheer white cape of some sort, again with small diamonds in the fabric. Ozma wore her hair curled, with a double-rowed gold circlet around her head. Two gold flowers of a slightly deeper shade than the metal adorned the sides of the circlet. Finally, and startlingly, she wore red shoes.

_The Ruby Slippers_? Wendy wondered. Other than the red shoes- which made an almost shocking contrast against the rest of Ozma's outfit -the dress resembled a bridal gown (or what Wendy thought a bridal gown would look like in the Emerald City).

_It seems that Ozma's already decided on her groom_ , Wendy thought darkly, not sure where this jealousy was coming from. She knew Peter had no intention of marrying Ozma, and she didn't even want Peter. How could she want a mass-murderer? She didn't- or so she assured herself.

Suddenly, Ozma stopped. Her eyes narrowed, and she glared at Wendy. Wendy met Peter's eyes in favor of Ozma's, and he raised one eyebrow and nodded to her. She could practically hear his unspoken command: _Curtsy, Bird, if you want to live._

Gritting her teeth, Wendy managed a brief curtsy. This was apparently enough for Ozma, who proceeded to ignore her and walk directly to the center of the dance floor.

"Fellow Ozians," the princess intoned, "Tonight we have a very special occasion. A favored guest has returned to us: Peter Pan!" She gazed up at him in adoration. The assembled guests bowed or curtsied, then clapped. Pan granted Ozma a blithe smile, one which Wendy recognized as completely and utterly emotionless.

Ozma didn't know Peter as well as Wendy, and so she blushed prettily at what she thought was his attention, "This celebration is in his honor, and it is also…to find me a husband," at this statement, gasps filled the room, "It has been too long since Oz had a king, don't you agree?" The crowd nodded- what else could they do?

"In order to find he who is most worthy of being my husband, I've summoned you and your sons here. We shall have an archery contest," Ozma waved a hand behind her, and servants immediately began to set up targets, passing out bows and arrows to stunned boys, "He who wins the contest may claim his prize and become king of Oz." The male guests aged ten to seventeen had various reactions to this statement. The younger ones bit their lips and stared at each other in shock and confusion. The older ones eyed each other warily, accepting their bows with determination. It seemed that like Glinda, they wanted the throne of Oz as well- although unlike Glinda, they had never expected it to be offered to them.

Idly, Wendy mused if they knew they'd never even come close to getting it.

But speaking of royals…now she examined the boys more closely. There were some with black hair, but they were far too tall to be Henry. Her suspicions were confirmed when they turned and stretched, this time facing her. As she looked over the other boys, she had the sneaking suspicion that none of them would be Henry either. And if they weren't…what was Peter planning? Were they just going to leave Oz behind after polarizing their government, and riling up a witch? Somehow, she doubted Peter would let them depart while doing _nothing_. It simply wasn't in his way.

Nevertheless, Peter himself accepted a bow- his personally presented to him by Ozma -and playacted warming up. After centuries of archery, he no longer needed to warm-up or practice. His shot was deadly, and none of these boys, the oldest of them had probably been practicing archery for ten years, stood a chance against him.

Wendy watched as the first round of archers lined up. A group of almost fifty boys had assembled to try their luck at becoming Oz's new king. The youngest was clearly terrified, fingering his bow with trepidation. Much to Wendy's surprise, Peter bent down next to the boy and clapped him on the back. The boy trembled, then looked over his shoulder at a woman scowling in the crowd. It could only be his mother, and it was blatant that if the child- for the boy could hardly be older than eight –did not win, there would be serious consequences. Peter followed the boy's gaze, then slowly rose to his feet, his own eyes meeting the boy's mother's with a dreadful sort of pleasure. Then he smiled, and squeezed the boy's shoulder before taking a place next to him for the first round.

Seeing that everyone, including Peter, was in place, Ozma stood up from her throne. She raised her staff once, then declared:

"For my hand in marriage, and the crown of Oz, archers- fire!"

Arrows whooshed through the air, many hitting their mark in a rush of thuds. Some boys howled with delight, while others moaned in disappointment. Ozian guards collected the targets of the losers, who were escorted to the edges of the crowd. More than fifteen boys had been eliminated from the first round, including the little boy whom Peter had encouraged. The boy made his way hesitantly to his mother, who looked furious. Peter watched the exchange, then turned his attention back to the contest. He began to talk with some of the other competitors as the servants rearranged the targets. Some of the boys were smiling, if nervous, while others appeared anxious or annoyed. Wendy couldn't help but notice it was these boys that Peter sought out.

Round, after round, it was the same pattern. Boys fired their arrows and were eliminated, more slowly as the rounds progressed. Peter chatted with both the contestants still involved and those who had been disqualified, and Wendy felt so nervous she almost began to pick her nails- a nervous habit she'd both developed and stopped while in Neverland.

Luckily, Slightly tapped her shoulder at about the fourth round (seven boys, not including Peter, were left). He proffered a green goblet, saying:

"You look like you could use this."

Wendy eyed the drink skeptically, "What is it?" Hook had once offered her rum, but this didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before.

"Poppy wine. Not my favorite, but it has to be better for the nerves than what you're doing," his own eyes went to her hands, and Wendy flushed, accepting the beverage without a word.

Slightly whispered, "Also, Henry's not in the crowd."

"So we came for nothing," Wendy sighed, somehow simultaneously grateful that they hadn't captured Henry and uneasy about what exactly that meant.

"No, we didn't," the Lost Boy said, "You know Pan would never let a trip like this go to waste."

The two watched in silence until finally only Peter and one boy were left. The boy was tall, with (oddly) green hair and the hint of a green beard, and very obviously not Henry Mills. He seemed cocky, and Peter seemed amused by the boy's blustering attitude. Wendy wanted to groan with frustration, and also to warn the redhead.

_It's over. It's always been over. Don't you know he could wring your neck, just for fun?_

But of course the boy didn't. He'd never met Peter before today. He had no idea what he was dealing with.

* * *

"So, Peter Pan? That's your name?" the redhead inquired, "Bit of an odd name, isn't it?"

Peter resisted the urge to gut the redhead, instead stringing his bow as he replied, "Odd to you, maybe, but it's memorable," he smirked, "I haven't been here in _ages_ and Ozma remembers my name. What's yours, by the way?"

"Omby Amby."

Pan burst into laughter, "You can't be serious." He knew the Ozians had- well, if he was polite, he supposed he would use the term "unusual" –names. This one, however, was the strangest he'd ever heard.

Omby's eyes narrowed, "I'm very serious. It's a long tradition in the Ozian military for the youngest officer to take that name. It's a famous name." His chest practically puffed out with pride.

Peter snickered, "I can promise you, Omby, that Ozma has _no_ idea who you are."

Omby bristled at his taunts, "Of course she does! And even if- even if she doesn't know…she will when I _win._ Then I will be King Omby of Oz, and everyone will be amazed at the boy who went from private to king in one day."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Omby, but you'll still be a private by the time this competition is over," Peter checked his bow one more time.

_Flawless_ , he thought. _Time to get this over with._

"When this is over," Omby said, "I'm going to tell the the guards to cut off your head."

Peter smirked, "How funny. I was going to tell them to do the same to you."

Omby's face practically turned red, but Peter merely turned to Ozma and bowed:

"Your Highness, would you permit us to take our final shot?"

The princess smiled, "Of course! Of course. Good luck," ostensibly, she gave well-wishes to both competitors, but her eyes never left Peter's as she called, "Ready. Aim. Fire!"

* * *

Wendy watched the arrows as if they were in slow motion. She knew the outcome, of course. But the seconds seemed to drag on, and she felt her heart start to pound.

At her side, Slightly whispered, "Take another sip."

Wendy queried, "What's the point?" then, one thought struck her before all others, "Wait, Slightly…where did you get this?" She cast her gaze all around the room, and sure enough, every person in the room held a green goblet just like hers.

" _What did you do_?" Wendy whispered furiously, "What's in this?" then she stared back at Peter, realizing Slightly would have done nothing without Peter's orders, "God, what did _he_ do?"

Slightly ignored her frantic questions. He too watched the arrows as they smacked into their targets:

"I think he just won."

* * *

Ozma sent over official guards to be sure, who took measurements of the arrows. However, the outcome was indisputable: while both arrows appeared to hit the bullseye of the target, Omby's was two centimeters left of center. Peter's, naturally, was dead center. Ozma let out a shriek of delight and ran to Peter, throwing her arms around him. Omby let out a groan of fury, but the sound died away quickly as he met Peter's eyes.

"No," Omby whispered, "No. _No._ Don't do it. _Don't_."

"Oh, but Omby," Peter pried Ozma off him, "We had a wager." He turned to his "fiancée:"

"Omby said that the first thing he would order, if he won, was to have me beheaded. I told him that I felt the same, if I won. And I did. What do you think about that, Ozma?"

Ozma's eyes narrowed into slits. She scanned Omby's dress, "I think a private should have some respect for his new king, and that a member of the Ozian military should honor his promises. Guards?"

At her command, the guardsmen at the doors snapped to attention, "Your Highness?"

"Take…" she glanced briefly at the terrified private, "whatever his name is and execute him." The guardsmen stepped forward, hauling Omby backwards out of the room.

"No! No!" the boy cried, "Your Highness, please! Have mercy! Have mercy! I don't want to die!"

"Then you shouldn't disrespect my fiancé," Ozma answered irritably. She sighed, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder, pointedly ignoring Omby's shouts for mercy, clemency, help, _anything_ , until new guards took the place of the old and closed the doors, muffling the sound. She sidled up to Peter, who slid one arm around her waist.

"Before we continue," Pan interjected, "I would just like to offer a toast. To Princess Ozma!" He held out his hand for a glass, and a footman bowed and handed him one. A glass of poppy wine.

Just like Wendy's. The girl stared down at the green liquid in her own glass in puzzlement and horror. There was something wrong here, something terribly wrong, and she had no idea what it was, or how to stop it…

The crowd was oblivious to her inner turmoil. Instead, they all raised their glasses, and echoed Peter's toast:

"To Princess Ozma!"

Peter's smile grew wider as they drained their glasses of every last drop. Wendy simply held hers in a trembling hand.

"Yes, to dear Princess Ozma," Peter removed his arm from her. Perplexed, the princess reached for him, but Pan strode to the very center of the ballroom.

"I'm afraid I must apologize to you all. You see, I won't be king of Oz," he continued unabashed as gasps filled the ballroom, "but then again, Ozma shouldn't be princess either. In fact, that isn't even Princess Ozma." He turned around, gesturing to the flabbergasted girl.

"What are you- Peter, how can you- ugh!" the princess' hands flew to her head, and she shrieked in pain. Wendy's own hand covered her mouth. Glinda was apparently much more gentle when she normally possessed Ozma- now she'd just shoved herself inside the princess' head.

"You'll all recall the Civil War of Oz. Or be starting to, anyway," Peter grinned, but it more perverse than happy, "and how the Governor-Princesses rebelled and fought against King Pastoria, who very thoughtfully trapped you all here…well, 'Princess' Glinda, self-proclaimed Queen of the North, has been possessing Ozma all the while, keeping her from growing up. Oh, she's also been drugging the rest of you so you wouldn't notice how _strange_ Ozma's become-"

" _Pan!_ " Glinda-through-Ozma screeched. She practically flew across the room, reaching for Peter's throat. He held up a hand of his own, freezing Ozma in place. Sweat beaded down the princess' forehead, but Peter barely seemed to notice:

"Don't worry, though. My man's slipped an antidote into your drinks. I suggest you find a regent, and arrest Zoroaster over there. His real name's Oscar, by the way, and he's the one who's been drugging you under Glinda's orders this whole time," Pan pointed to a man who had been slinking out of the ballroom. He wore a green vest and pants, as well as a green doctor's jacket. He stilled at Peter's condemnation, then broke into a run. Instinctively, some of the Ozian noblemen- the antidote clearly beginning to take effect –tackled him to the ground.

" _Pan!_ " Glinda-through-Ozma yelled again, "We had a _deal_ , Pan! A deal!"

"Indeed we did, dearest Glinda, but you didn't keep up your end. The boy I was searching for isn't here, so while I still have no plans to claim the kingship, I do plan on interfering in your affairs," Peter smiled as the various people in the ballroom gasped. Ozma's eyes flared pink before turning to the color entirely. She floated, her feet dragging along the floor towards Peter, and this time he let her.

"You see?" he called out, "This isn't your princess. This is the _Witch of the North_."

At these words, Glinda-through-Ozma shrieked, "You'll die, Pan! I'll kill you! _They'll_ kill you!" she gestured to remaining guards in the room, " _Kill him at once_!" The guards gaped at her, and it was clear that murdering Pan was the very last thing on their agenda. They looked back and forth at one another, until finally a boy- the 3rd place winner, Wendy realized –stepped out of the crowd:

"Her Highness is clearly incapable of ruling right now. Lords and ladies, would you be amenable to me acting as regent until we break the spell on her?" the redhead turned around on one foot until he faced Pan, "Unless you have any objections?"

"None whatsoever," Peter waved him away, "You'll want to follow the guards though. Lock Ozma in her chambers, send doctors, spellcasters, whatever you have, to her every day." The boy (though Wendy supposed he was now the new regent of Oz) swept out of the room, the crowd murmuring variations of "Your Highness" and "Prince Boq" as they tried to process the drama going on around them.

As the doors closed behind the procession of the screaming princess, various guardsmen, and the new regent, Peter smirked, "Now then. Before I go…there's one last thing to take care of. You all know me- Peter Pan, the star-traveler. But as you've seen today, I can take others with me. I can make others star-travelers. I rule a world myself, you see," he held his hands behind his back, and every eye in the room was focused on him, "It's called Neverland, and it's a place for Lost Ones. Boys who have been neglected and hurt by society. I must say, I'm disappointed. I've visited Oz many times, and would never have suspected the people of the Emerald City being so cruel to their boys as I've heard from contestants today-"

"Slightly," Wendy practically hit the Lost Boy beside her. He jumped, surprised by her action. He too had been entranced by Peter's speech.

_"What. Is. In. This. Drink?_ " Wendy said each word individually, "Peter said you put something in the drinks. What's in mine?"

Slightly sighed, "Yours is fine, Wendy-lady. Literally, nothing in it but poppy wine."

"And the others?" the girl's grip around her glass was as tight as iron.

"You heard Pan. I put an antidote to the drugs in it," he reached into his pocket, then showed her a bag, "Stardust. Whenever I fly I always try to get some; it's incredibly useful stuff. Among other properties, it counteracts most drugs. Only a few grains of stardust in each glass, and now, every citizen of the Emerald City can see 'Ozma' and the 'wizard,'" he scoffed, "for what they truly are." Seeing Wendy was still skeptical, Slightly hurried to reassure her:

"I promise, nothing's in yours. You already know everything about Ozma and the wizard."

Wendy was still dubious. She knew Peter would never physically harm her (she thought that, anyway- excluding the time with his arrow), but nevertheless, she refused to take another sip of her wine. Shaking her head, she was startled out of her reverie by Pan's next sentence:

"-normally, I'd take them to Neverland and save them from your abuse," he grit his teeth, "but I can't, due to the late king's attempt at protecting his daughter. In the meantime, I will do all that I can to eliminate that abuse. You should start to be feeling its effects," his cast his gaze up at a nearby clock, "now."

As if to punctuate his statement, the woman next to Wendy began to choke. Wendy stumbled back as she realized this woman was the mother of the little boy Peter had been speaking to in the very first phase of the competition. The woman staggered, reaching for purchase. Slightly pulled Wendy out of the way as the woman fell atop a table filled with refreshments, fighting to breathe. Then, one after the other, various people in the room displayed similar symptoms- choking, struggling for breath, stumbling about before finally crashing to the ground, where they all began to spit up blood.

"Oh my God," Wendy's own breath caught in her mouth, "Oh my God!" As blood began to soak the green floor, Wendy whirled around and screamed at Slightly:

"You said there was an _antidote_ in it!"

"There was," Slightly swallowed, "Just a few grains of stardust. Enough to counteract the wizard's drug. But not enough to counteract ten drops of aqua regia."

"A few drops of _what_?"

"Aqua regia," Slightly said guiltily, "It's used to clean emeralds. Highly poisonous. I swiped some while you were getting dressed."

"When I was getting dressed…" Wendy paused as the timeline sunk in, "Did Peter plan this the whole time? He knew he was going to poison people the whole time?!"

Slightly shrugged, unable to meet Wendy's eyes, "You heard him. He can't help boys like he normally does. In his mind, this was the next best thing."

Wendy was completely aghast. Without another word, she reached back and slapped Slightly hard across the face. He doubled over in shock, not expecting the blow.

"How could you?" Wendy demanded, "How could you? Actually…" she left a stunned Slightly by the refreshment table, striding to the center of the ballroom before Peter himself:

" _How could you_!?" she screamed at him. Peter raised an eyebrow, then responded in a completely calm tone, "The boys needed help." He was entirely unfazed by the blood running towards them, staining Wendy's already hideous gown.

"'Help?'" Wendy laughed hysterically, then began to yell at him in earnest, "You call _this_ help? You just murdered a quarter of the adults in this ballroom!"

"I made a vow long ago to stop this abuse."

"Yes, you did," Wendy practically snarled at him, "and I understand that. But how could you be certain? How could you be certain that _every single person_ you just killed was an abuser? How many of them were parents whose children were in petty fights with them? Huh?" she nodded towards a sobbing ten year old in the corner, who was currently begging his father not to die, "Who are you to play judge and jury and God? As I understood it, your job was to save, not kill! Yes, maybe some of these people were horrible, but many more were innocent!"

"Wendy-" Pan began, but Wendy held up a hand to silence him.

"Don't brush me off, Peter. Don't. I can't tell you how many times I argued with my father at their age. I said I hated him. I told my own father I _hated_ him! Not once, not twice, but time after time…and Peter, I never truly hated my father. I loved my father, I loved him so very much," at this, Wendy's ire finally began to disappear, and she started to cry, "and he's dead now. God, I wish I had never said such things to him…about him…oh, God, if I could only see him now," at that, Wendy fell to the floor. Her gown, her shoes, and her hands were all shortly covered in blood. If Pan didn't know any better, he would have thought she had ingested the poison or perhaps slaughtered some of the attendees herself.

"Wendy," Peter held one hand out to pull her to her feet, but she ignored it:

"If I could see him now…and all I've wanted for so long is to see him now…I would tell him how sorry I am. Oh God…" Wendy sobbed, then lifted one hand to wipe tears off her cheek, "Daddy, if you're listening…I'm so sorry. Forgive me. Forgive me. _Please_."

At last, Pan became truly alarmed. Wendy was literally breaking down, and she was shaking in a pool of blood. She was oblivious to how it coated her clothes and her hands- and hadn't realized that she'd also marked her face with it in her futile attempt to rid her cheek of tears.

Peter was unnerved. It reminded him of when he'd first seen her in the classroom and she'd fainted. It had almost been like she was absorbed in other memories, other places, other times. Abruptly, he took her hands in his own and forced her to her feet.

"Slightly!" Peter called across the ballroom. Obediently, the Lost Boy came to his leader's side.

"We're leaving. Now," he assessed Wendy's condition and grimaced, "Hold my wrist. I'm afraid to let her go."

_Me too_ , Slightly thought, _She might actually kill us, never mind hit us_. Nevertheless, he knew better than to say these words aloud. He simply nodded, and was dead silent as Peter flew them straight up through the ballroom ceiling, ignoring the devastation they'd left behind them.

* * *

When they arrived back at mansion, it was about four in the morning. Oz's time moved several hours faster than Storybrooke's. It was lucky that Peter had suggested they check there first- they'd already eliminated a world, and none of the Charmings were the wiser the Neverlanders even knew of their plan.

Wendy appeared to be in a state of shock. However, their flight back seemed to have disseminated her fury. Peter managed to escort her upstairs into the master bedroom without her attempting to slap him, which Slightly considered a triumph. However, when Pan told her to take a shower and change into pajamas, she didn't reply. She'd hardly uttered a word since they'd returned.

Refusing to let it bother him, Pan instead found Felix and Tink seated in the kitchen. The pair were sipping at coffee, though both were bleary-eyed. It was clear that they had waited up for them.

Peter leaned over the counter, surprising the two: "Felix, show Tink to the second guestroom. Then organize a watch." Wordlessly, the couple deposited their cups in their sink and followed Peter upstairs. As Tink disappeared inside the room, Felix asked under his breath:

"Were you successful?"

Pan replied, with absolutely no inflection whatsoever, "He's not in Oz, but that doesn't matter right now. What doesis that the Charmings are sure to realize Henry has disappeared, Wendy has escaped from jail, and Tink has sought refuge here. Organize a watch."

Felix nodded and walked back downstairs. Peter watched for a while as he selected various Lost Boys to wake up- some of them new ones. He couldn't help but smile. Although the new Boys were clearly unused to being woken so early, they didn't complain.

He _knew_ he'd picked the right ones.

* * *

Wendy had somehow managed to wash the blood off her, but she thought the white floor of the shower might be permanently stained pink. She'd curled up the ugly dress into a ball and left it in the bathroom, not desiring to see it ever again. Let Peter deal with it. He had enough experience with blood already.

With a sigh, Wendy stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around herself, then approached the armoire across from the giant bed. She expected everything to be variations of Peter's outfit, but managed to find an oversized white shirt in the back. She started as she realized it was a men's button down, and as Peter didn't wear button downs, it had to be Felix's. She wrinkled her nose- she didn't want to wear his clothes –but she didn't have much else of a choice at the moment. So it was that she pulled it on with distaste.

When the door opened, Wendy was staring at herself in the mirror. The blood was off her, but she could still see it. Rushing all over her, and off her, naming her as a murderer with them…

"Bird, do you still have nightmares?"

It was strange to hear Peter voice the question out loud, because they were both more than aware that she did. They were also both more than aware that when he slept beside her, they went away- and that several times since he'd revealed his presence in Storybrooke her nightmares had departed. That could only have happened if he had again slept beside her.

Wendy faced him and murmured, "You are the nightmare."

Peter flinched as though she'd stabbed him. The action surprised her- she thought he was immutable to any criticism, even hers. Apparently, that wasn't the case. His eyes were filled with pain- but she saw no remorse there.

It mirrored her own feelings. She had no remorse for what she said either. Despite that, she added:

"Yes, I have nightmares." She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes again, but eventually she had to, and was surprised for the second time that night:

Pan was staring at her as he said, "Stay with me." Technically, the statement was a command, but Wendy _swore_ she saw a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. Almost as though he was begging her for a chance to redeem himself- for her to see him as something different. Then she blinked, and it was gone.

Wendy paused, considering her reply. Did she want to have nightmares? Did she want to sleep with a murderer? Did that killer really have the power to protect her? Did she dare acknowledge whatever it was that was going on between them? Or what had been? Was there anything now at all? She sensed there was so much riding on this moment, but if anyone asked, she couldn't say what it was.

Finally, she whispered, "Yes."

* * *

Nothing untoward happened that night. Peter was chivalrous enough. He'd disappeared briefly after she'd agreed to stay- probably checking on the watch. When he'd returned, she'd undone her hair, and was lying on her side. For his part, he did not remove his shirt as he'd done in Neverland, simply slid in beside her. He wrapped his arms around her. Neither of them said anything as they fell asleep. Their emotions were too confusing.

The next morning, Wendy woke up alone. Sunlight streamed through the window. Rubbing her eyes, she swung out of bed and approached the wardrobe. A brief smile played at her lips- it was now full of her own clothes. At some point last night, one of the Lost Boys must have been sent back to the house at the edge of town to retrieve her own clothes (and most likely Tinkerbell's as well).

At the thought of the fairy, Wendy frowned. She quickly threw some clothes on- a pair of jeans and dark purple top -before opening the door and making her way down the hallway. She counted the doors- there were only two. She pushed one open, revealing the room of a young boy. The curtains were blue, and the shelves were full of comics. This must have been Henry's room, then. She spun on her foot, then went for the second door. This opened into what looked like a smaller version of the master suite, with the bed being queen-sized instead of king, and the curtains draped in violet instead of red. Tink was wearing dark jeans and a low cut green tank top, and her hair was a complete and utter mess. Wendy was taken aback- this was the most revealing outfit she'd seen the fairy in, _ever_ -and this was the happiest Tink had looked in ages.

"Uh...good morning?" Wendy said hesitantly.

Tinkerbell smirked, for a second looking a bit like Pan, " _Very_ good." Then she shook her head, remembering Wendy was there:

"What is it?"

"I was going to ask you what you thought of this. Of everything, really," Wendy stumbled over her words, "What you're going to do."

Tink bit her lip, "Well, Pan came to see me last night."

* * *

_After Felix had shown Tink to the guest room, he'd departed to organize and double the watch (like Pan, he believed that when the Charmings discovered Wendy's escape, they would come to Regina's former mansion first. While they couldn't come in, it would only be prudent to have guards posted). The second his footsteps had echoed down the stairs, she heard a familiar voice say:_

_"Hello, Tink."_

_"Peter," the fairy turned to look at him over her shoulder. The boy who'd given her everything shut the door behind him, and he appeared solemn._

_Tink inquired, "I'll take it this means you don't plan on killing me?"_

_A smirk played about Pan's lips, but he confirmed, "Good guess. No, I don't plan on it, unless you're planning on betraying me again."_

_At that, Tinkerbell crossed her arms, "What did you expect me to do, Peter? You_ _**banished** _ _me! Told me I couldn't speak to anyone-"_

_"You found a way around that," Pan noted, and she snapped:_

_"That's not the point, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tell Felix about that."_

_Peter shrugged, "Like I said, I don't plan on it, unless you plan on betraying me again."_

_Tink's ire only grew at his casual dismissal of her exile, "Just tell me_ _**why** _ _you did it. I never understood. I know you want the Lost Boys to hold you above everything, but that's not the only reason you exiled me. It can't be, otherwise you would have done it before Wendy left-" she stopped her tirade, and raised an eyebrow, "_ _**Wendy** _ _?"_

_Again, Peter shrugged, "I wasn't exactly in my right mind, Tink. She left, and the island started to die, and I was frantic trying to save it and the boys-"_

_"Oh, Peter," Tink laughed, a touch of bitterness poisoning the sound, "That's not all. You couldn't stand it, could you? She left, and you couldn't stand seeing Felix and I together. It didn't sit well with you. You, who always excelled at everything, and got everything you wanted, couldn't take it when the girl you loved left, and instead of dealing with it like a rational person, you forced two of your closest friends apart."_

_Peter neither confirmed or denied her accusations. All he said was, "I couldn't go back on it. It would have made me look weak."_

_"So instead you singlehandedly made your second miserable, and made me- the person who supported you, from day one -look like an incredible bitch? Never mind almost go_ _**insane?** _ _"_

_"You didn't go insane."_

_"Again, Peter, that's not the point. The only reason I didn't was because I found someone to talk to. But beyond the fact you exiled me anyway, what really drove the knife in was when Wendy came back and you_ _**still made me stay away** _ _."_

_"It would have made me look weak, and I couldn't afford to look weak then. I couldn't afford to be wrong. I had to save Neverland."_

_"What about saving me?" a few tears threatened to fall, and Peter attempted to reassure her:_

_"As soon as Neverland was restored, I was going to come up with some way for you to rejoin us-"_

_"Yeah," Tink laughed again, "That didn't exactly happen. Now you're trying to save it- again -and what are you planning to do about me? It's going to look suspicious if you let me stay here."_

_"It's going to look magnanimous," Pan riposted, "if you accept my terms."_

_"I knew you weren't sorry," the fairy said cruelly, "I knew there had to be something in this for you." She crossed her arms defensively over her chest._

_Peter's voice didn't falter as he ignored her condemnation, "I'll welcome you back into the fold if you swear loyalty to me in front of the Lost Boys. I'll let you and Felix be together if you swear to fight on my side. Leave the Charmings; they've already shown they can't be trusted-"_

_"And you can?" Tink replied._

_"What do you want to hear? The pretty answer, the practical answer, or the truth? The pretty answer is you and he are, as you pointed out, two of my closest friends. You deserve to be happy. I want you both to be happy._

_"The practical answer is that you and Felix are simply worth more to me together than just having one of you alone. You are both good allies in a fight- don't give me that look; you can be vicious when you want. And the truth," Pan trailed off, "The truth is a mixture of both of those, but also with a caveat that you would do well to remember: Felix will never betray me, Tink. He's not going to suddenly defect to the side of Storybrooke."_

_At that, Tink realized Peter was right. Felix was never going to leave Pan's side. He loved being immortal, he loved being a deadly force of nature, he loved his part in a legend. If she wanted to be with him- and God, she did -the only way she could was if she returned to Pan's side. Besides, Peter had been her best friend once. She'd watched him grow from a precocious toddler into an astonishing king, then a brutal dictator when his realm was threatened. But as she stared at him, she saw flickers of her best friend. He was tainted by darkness, but somewhere inside, that amazing, dauntless boy still existed. And that boy still valued her friendship, and what little was left of his conscience did regret sending her away. Now, the pragmatic, calculating part of him was seizing on the opportunity to reverse his decision and welcome her back into the fold- if she swore her loyalty again in the midst of this fight, the Lost Boys would simply see her as a traitor who'd discovered the truth, and returned to the correct side._

_Tinkerbell closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, "Swear to me you'll keep every part of this promise."_

_"I swear," Pan said immediately._

_At his vow, she ignored her own conscience and declared, "Done." Pan merely nodded and opened the door._

_"Peter-" Tink interjected. He paused, though he did not face her again._

_"I missed you," she said softly._

_Pan smirked._

* * *

"You're on Pan's side now?" Wendy gaped as the fairy nodded. She couldn't believe Tinkerbell's story.

"So he just...he just said you could be with Felix? That's all it took for you to make that decision?" the girl asked.

Tink shrugged, "It's not all it took. When Nibs told me they'd imprisoned you, I realized the Charmings see us as expendable. If they locked you up in jail for a _kiss_ , and you were the key to them defeating Pan in Neverland, what would they do to me?" she mused, "We don't matter, Wendy, not to them."

"But what about your vow as a fairy? To protect, and to help?"

At this, Tink swallowed. She felt a little guilty about this- she really didn't want Henry to die, but if Felix was right, she wouldn't be the one responsible for his death anyway. Aloud, she echoed more of his reasoning:

"You're right. And I said that to Felix last night," she wrung her hands together, pushing her conscience down, "but he said I would be helping many more souls if I stood by and let Hen- let the Boys and Peter do their work. Peter can't help lost souls unless he has a world- Neverland -to fulfill the covenant he made with Queen Titania and King Oberon. I was there when he made that vow; I know the terms..." she mused, "and the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me."

"But Pan _exiled_ you!" Wendy insisted, "How could you just ignore that?"

The fairy smiled faintly, "Believe me, I didn't. He knows exactly how I feel about it. And he apologized- or what passes for an apology from him. He explained his reasons- reasons you'd be interested in, actually," she paused, "but I guess what made the decision is that is I love Felix, and he won't leave Peter. Peter used to be my best friend; I've known him since he was a child. Some part of me still cares about him, even after everything he's done. And I still know him, and deep down, he wants to help, and fulfill the covenant he made with the king and queen," she snorted, "He's not exactly going about it the right way, but there's no way I can change that if I'm not on his side, is there?"

"I suppose not," Wendy acknowledged. She gazed at the fairy, who had slowly become her friend, and her heart broke a little as she realized that depending on Wendy's own decision, Tink might be her enemy.

"I've made my choice, Wendy," Tinkerbell said, perhaps thinking along the same lines, "I suggest you make yours- and soon."

* * *

Shortly after Wendy's and her conversation, Tinkerbell was browsing the racks of what was considered Storybrooke's supermarket. She and Wendy rarely left Pan's headquarters- Regina's former home -now, Wendy because she'd been imprisoned once, and Tink because she was fearful she _would_ be imprisoned. She wanted nothing more than to stay with Felix. However, there were plenty of Lost Boys, new and old, both residing in and coming to and from the mansion, and like most boys, they were absolutely ravenous. The older Lost Boys were training them, and since Storybrooke did not have Neverland's powers of "imagination," it often fell to the two girls- much to Tink's general consternation -to prepare meals for them. As such, the fairy was currently looking for ingredients for that night's dinner- some form of chicken, she decided -but she had an escort with her, consisting of Felix and Nibs. Felix, while he sneered at most things in Storybrooke, seemed to have developed a liking for cereal, and had wandered into the next aisle to peruse the various types available. Nibs was about five feet away from her, examining the quality of steaks. He picked a package up doubtfully.

"What is it?" Tink asked, somewhat amused by the perplexed expression on his face.

"I don't know," Nibs replied, not exactly answering her question, "It _says_ beef, but how can you be sure if you didn't hunt it yourself?"

"You imagined it, once," the fairy pointed out, stifling a laugh, but the Lost Boy shook his head, "I can trust my own imagination, and my own hunting skills. I don't trust these people."

At that, Tinkerbell's smile faded. His remarks may have been flippant, but he wasn't entirely wrong. She didn't trust them either- not anymore. A bit forlornly, she returned the chicken she'd been holding to its shelf and decided to move to the vegetable section instead. The Boys might not be thrilled with a vegetarian meal, but at least then she could physically tell what each vegetable was.

Nibs followed her. Although Felix wasn't actually watching her, his own hunting skills let him sense their movement, and left the cereal aisle. He was at the opposite end from them, but trailed them towards the produce section. For her part, she couldn't help but sneak glances at him. She'd missed him so much. The idea that she had him back at all, and that he was doing something so mundane as following her around a supermarket, was surreal to her. However, it thrilled her, and the thought of him- and their chosen activities of the previous evening -returned a smile to her face. Tink was so distracted by him that she was still looking at him when she rounded a corner, and didn't realize she had just walked smack into the very last person she wanted to see.

Queen Mab- no, Tink refused to think of her like that, Mab was _no_ queen, not like Titania had been -alias the Blue Fairy, alias the Mother Superior, stood before her, her lips curled in disapproval. She held a bag of carrots in one arm, and a purse in the other. Apparently, she too had ventured out to get food for the nuns- fairies -still under her rule in Storybrooke. There was a long silence, but then the Mother Superior followed Tink's gaze to where Felix stood at the other end of the aisle. One hand had disappeared into his sweatshirt, and she had no doubt he was grasping his switchblade tightly. Apparently, neither did the Mother Superior.

_"This_ is what you've chosen?" the Mother Superior said derisively, "Consorting with a murderer?"

Tink grit her teeth, "Don't talk about Felix like that." Felix himself scowled, and while he was obviously displeased by the Mother Superior's comments, Pan had taught him enough of fairy culture not to interfere unless it was a life or death matter. So, he watched the pair square off instead, resisting the urge to slit the woman's throat.

"Like what?" the Mother Superior sneered, "What he is? You know, I don't know why I'm surprised you're defending him. You've always been one to deny the truth, from the day I first met you. You denied your station, what your destiny was supposed to be, and aspired to be something you never could be. You were born to fix pots and pans, not be a fairy godmother. I _told_ my sister that, over, and over, and over. But did she listen?" the Mother Superior snorted, "No. And you denied you were a servant. Now you're denying your lover is a murderer. And may I remind you of the fairy code? We're not supposed to fall in love, or help those who are unworthy. You've done both, and denied the fairy code. Fallen in love, helped an evil queen-"

"I had no way of knowing how Regina would turn out," Tink insisted, but the Mother Superior kept on with her tirade, her voice full of accusation:

"Now, you've become evil yourself." The words hung in the air, like an axe over her head, and Tinkerbell's heart stopped as she sputtered, "I- I am _not_ evil! How can you say something like that?"

"Because you defied nature. You defied the fairy code," the Mother Superior practically spat at her. Her eyes were cruel.

"Because I fell in love!?" Tink said, incredulous.

Mother Superior shook her head, "Because you've fallen. A long time ago, I said I didn't believe in you. Now, I do believe in you. I believe you've fallen, and I believe you're a dark fairy."

At the Mother Superior's fatal condemnation, Tink felt a wrenching pain in her back. She doubled over, gasping, as she felt twin bumps bubble up beneath her skin, just above her shoulder blades.

"What did you _do?"_ Tinkerbell demanded, the last word turning into a shriek of pain. Nibs rushed to her side, catching her as she fell to her knees. Felix, though not a fairy himself, practically flew down the aisle. He caught the Mother Superior by the throat, holding his blade close enough to the skin to draw blood.

"What. Did. You. Do?" he repeated his lover's question, each word punctuated by him pressing the blade harder into the Mother Superior's throat.

"I only said what she _is_ ," the woman answered, "All good fairies are bound by the fairy code, to help, not harm; to not fall in love; to obey, not disobey, the queen. _She_ has done all of that. She fell in love, she disobeyed the queen, and she brought more harm to more people than she could ever imagine when she aided the Evil Queen. I once said I didn't believe in her- made her a human for her failure. But I gave her a path to redemption in doing so," the Mother Superior sniffed, "she could have begged for my forgiveness, apologized for everything. I would have welcomed her back, of course, though she could never be a fairy godmother again, which she clearly was never suited to be-"

"Get to the point," Felix snarled, increasingly enraged by Tink's cries of pain.

"Tinkerbell didn't choose redemption. She didn't even choose to live the rest of her days in failure. She chose you. She chose Pan. She chose the path to evil. There is good magic and dark magic, and she is no longer on the right side," the Mother Superior explained.

At last, Tinkerbell herself said, "You've cursed me!" Her hands clawed at her back, shredding the thin fabric of her shirt.

"I've done no such thing," the Mother Superior retorted, smirking, "Only dark fairies cast curses. I've just told the truth."

As Tink cried out in pain, tears streaming down her face, Felix swore to the Mother Superior, eyes blazing, "I'm telling _you_ the truth: one day, I'm going to _kill you for this_." Then he released her, throwing her to the side, leaving a thin cut at her neck from which blood dripped freely.

With that, all Felix's attention turned to Tinkerbell. Mother Superior ignored, he swept the moaning fairy into his arms. She clutched at his neck, and he carefully skirted the bumps in her skin that was clearly bubbling and moving. Small black objects seemed to appear in the middle of the bumps. Nibs, swallowing his confusion and fear, picked up his phone and dialed Regina's old house.

"Tell Pan something's wrong."

* * *

When they came back to the mansion, Felix carried the weeping fairy upstairs into the second bedroom and placing her on the bed. Peter was there within seconds, assessing the situation with a critical and practical eye. Wendy watched from the doorway, hands clasped over her mouth, as Pan instructed:

"Turn her over." Immediately, Felix did so, trying to be as gentle as possible. Unfortunately, his efforts were in vain. Tinkerbell screamed, grasping at the sheets and crying freely. Pan ripped open what remained of the back of her shirt, examining the bumps, the small black objects in their centers appearing to grow in size.

"Tink," he said, "You're going to be fine." He swore slightly under his breath, muttering to Felix, "I can't believe she did this."

"Did what, exactly?" Felix murmured, "I'll kill her for it, either way, but I need to know what she did."

Pan smiled slightly at the venom in his second's voice, but the smile disappeared when Tinkerbell shrieked again.

"You've heard stories of angels and demons," Pan said, "many of which were inspired by fairies. Before humans came to know and understand fairies, they created origins for them, stories to explain these winged creatures. One such story is that of Lucifer, an angel who aspired to be greater than God. He fought against God, who in turn, threw him down and made him a demon, forever cast to hell and away from the light of God.

"This story is a bastardization of a fairy law, rarely enacted, that some humans must have observed ages ago. If a fairy flouts the rule of the monarch and thinks herself greater than the code, the fairy monarch can condemn her. She can be cast out and condemned, never to be a light fairy again. She becomes an exile, a dark fairy, symbol of evil and universally hated by all light fairies," Pan paused, "As God made an angel into a demon, Mab made Tinkerbell into a dark fairy."

As if to punctuate his statement, the black objects erupted into spectacular black wings. Translucent, they were webbed, and shimmered eerily in the light of the bedroom. Blood stemmed from the wounds where the wings had burst through her skin, and Tinkerbell sobbed freely. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were red, though whether it was from weeping so hard or some effect of the Mother Superior's curse Wendy didn't know.

"Tink," Peter bent down to the fairy's bedside, looking her in the eyes. In a rare show of tenderness, he squeezed her hand, "I know it hurts, but you'll be okay. I'll make sure of it." Tinkerbell hiccuped, but nodded and closed her eyes, clearly trying to stop crying. Pan rose to his feet. Wendy saw murder in his expression.

He turned to Felix, "Stay with Tink."

"I want to kill that bitch," Felix protested.

"You'll get to," Peter promised, "just not tonight."

Then he swept out of the bedroom without another word.

* * *


End file.
